Assassins of Tomorrow
by AlexandraO
Summary: *INDEFINITE HIATUS* Hermione has been on the run since Voldemort defeated Harry three years' prior at the Battle of Hogwarts. An unexpected ally comes in the form of a rogue Death Eater giving her a chance to defeat the snake-nosed, so called Lord, once and for all.
1. Chapter 1 — The Unexpected

_A/N: Hello! Welcome to Assassins of Tomorrow. This fic can be categorized as fluffy dark (is that a thing?). There will be Attempted Rape, Death of Canon Characters, Murder and Sexual Content. With that being said, there will be fluffy moments with friendships and relationships. **If this isn't your thing, turn back now!** Everything up to Battle of Hogwarts is canon, but after that it is canon divergent._

 _Disclaimer: All canon characters, plots, and situations from the Harry Potter series belongs to JK Rowling. I am not profiting from this work._

 _Huge thanks to Chaco for reading through the story, ArashiKitsune for her alpha-ing and to RueDawn for her amazing beta work on this piece!_

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 _Chapter 1: The Unexpected_

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Hermione stood in Knockturn Alley, eyeing the bar in front of her with contempt. Named The Black Dahlia, it fit the horror that came with Voldemort's reign. It had been three years since the dark side won the Battle of Hogwarts. Voldemort had ended the battle with a quick killing curse aimed at Harry's head, but not before his loyal followers destroyed the castle and murdered countless others.

She had been on the run ever since, her beaded bag her only companion. Hermione tried to stay clear of the Wizarding World, knowing she had a target on her head if she ever decided to return. Instead, she hovered on the border —staying close enough for scraps of news, but far enough away that not even the most successful private investigator could cash in on the ten-thousand galleon price tag on her head.

With her life in danger, she would have never ventured into Wizarding London without good reason. She had received a note earlier in the day with a time and location, nothing more. Typically she would be wary of a note void of a signature, but she was desperate. Being on the run for a little over three years took its toll on one physically, mentally and emotionally. She was tired of not knowing what the next day might bring or where her next meal might come from. She had survived this long because she was resourceful, but it was exhausting.

There was also a little pang in her heart when she thought of her friends. She had a glimpse of hope that maybe it was Neville who sent the note. She thought perhaps he had started an underground Order and had finally reached out to recruit her for the cause. Hermione shook her head, smothering the hopeful thoughts swimming around and forced herself to be rational. It wouldn't do her any good to dream of what could be, especially since having her head in the clouds could get her killed.

Not willing to risk being recognized, she had glamoured her appearance giving herself long, straight, blonde hair, an elongated nose, and green eyes. The look was completely opposite of her own, not giving away any clues to her true identity.

Taking a deep breath, Hermione walked confidently into the bar. To her dismay, the door was charmed to ding alerting the other patrons and workers to her arrival. Swallowing her nerves, she pulled the cloak further over her head allowing the hood to fall, covering her eyes.

Hermione walked up to the bar and ordered a firewhiskey, hoping that the other cloaked figures around her wouldn't recognize her voice. Glamours might cover her appearance, but they could do nothing for her voice.

She took a seat in the furthest corner of the bar to await what was coming. One hand on her glass, one on her wand. She had a gut feeling that whoever had sent the note wanted to help her, but one could never be too careful.

The door clanged again, noting the arrival of another patron. Looking up from her glass, Hermione surveyed the figure who was hidden beneath a black cloak, no different from anyone else. Her heart was pounding as the same figure stopped at the bar and then moved towards where she was sitting. Whoever it was, took a seat right next to her, almost touching.

They both sat for a moment, unmoving.

"Granger," the voice stated, in a quiet whisper.

"Am I that obvious?" she hurriedly whispered back. She wanted to get this over as soon as possible. Her Gryffindor courage was waning.

"How about we take this somewhere more private? It would be better not to be…," he paused, taking a sip of his drink. "Overheard."

"What kind of fool do you take me for?" she said, her voice raising.

"Quiet," he commanded. "This is dangerous for the both of us. One slip up and we will both be begging for death."

Hermione narrowed her eyes, trying to rack her brain for where she had heard the man's voice before. For him to reach out to her, he must have something to lose, but far more to gain. He most likely was playing for the other side and following him to a more private setting could be detrimental.

"Where do you suggest we reconvene this meeting?" she asked, biting her bottom lip. Her nerves were getting to her, which could quickly get her killed in a situation such as this.

"Follow me," the stranger said, leaving the booth and heading towards an unused part of the bar. "Grab my arm."

Hermione felt the pull of apparition and looking up she gasped. She was looking up at the largest castle she had ever seen, besides Hogwarts of course. The sign read, 'Knockyn Castle' She frowned. In primary school, she remembered this castle being located in London, but nothing more. Before she could comment, the stranger pulled roughly on her arm pushing her inside the home.

Yanking her arm from the stranger, she backed away pulling her wand from its holder beneath her cloak.

Before she could question him, the stranger pulled out his wand discarding it on a nearby table. He lifted his arms in the air, showing that he was unarmed and not wanting to cause her harm. She was no fool — most powerful witches and wizards had at least a basic grasp of wandless magic. It was still possible he could easily disarm her and do whatever he pleased with her.

Before she could open her mouth, he lowered his hood baring his face. She knew immediately that he was the younger Lestrange — Rabastan.

"Rabastan Lestrange," she whispered, keeping her wand steady. For once her internal dialogue was silent as he nodded. After the initial shock, she decided that no matter what she would give this a chance. She had escaped dangerous situations before, and if this turned out to be one of them, it was just another day in the life of an undesirable on the run.

Deciding there was nothing to lose, but so much more to gain she lowered her wand but kept a tight grip on it in case she was about to be double-crossed. Rabastan gestured to a door on her left, beckoning her forward. Entering the room, she saw they were in a study. Portraits of Lestrange family members covered the walls.

"Rabastan," a portrait said. "I see that you have succeeded in bringing the girl."

Hermione raised her eyebrows, curious to what this portrait knew of her meeting with Rabastan. "What is he talking about?" she asked curiously. "Why have you brought me here?"

He ignored her questions, but instead walked over a glass cabinet behind the desk and poured two generous portions of firewhiskey.

Hermione accepted the glass he offered and thanked him. Still wary of her surroundings and the Death Eater in front of her, she sniffed the drink testing for signs of poison. It didn't matter if it was laced with Veritaserum. She would just try to use occlumency to resist spilling her secrets. Finding no signs of tampering, she immediately took a gulp of the drink. She felt it burn going down her throat and instantly relaxed. Although relaxed, she needed to be careful. It wouldn't do her any good to get blackout drunk in the company of an apparent Death Eater.

She took a seat in front of the desk and raised her wand to lift the glamours. Since Rabastan already knew who she was, there was little point in keeping them in place. With a quick 'finite,' a brush of cold air whisked over her, changing her body back to its original state.

Hermione, not one to waste any time immediately asked Rabastan to clue her in on his plans and what she was doing there.

"Now, are you going to tell me what this is all about? I must say, I am genuinely curious about your plans…and what exactly your talking family portraits have to do with it," she said, gently swirling around the firewhiskey in the glass.

"Well, it all has to do with taking down the Dark Lord, of course," he said nonchalantly.

"Excuse me?" she sputtered. "I am not entirely sure that I heard you correctly. Did you just say that your plans revolve around taking down Volde—, I mean You-Know-Who?" She quickly corrected herself before she spewed her most hated enemy's name. After three years on the run and speaking only when needed, she had almost forgotten about the taboo that had been placed on the name to capture those fighting for the light.

Rabastan glared at her after her almost slip up. If she had continued to say his Lord's name, the Death Eater's would have come calling capturing or killing them both. She would need to be more careful, especially if she agreed to whatever plan he had concocted and they would be working together.

"Yes, I have plans to take down the Dark Lord," he said, pausing. "I won't tell you anything further unless you agree to work with me. I can't tell you my secrets and then have you running your mouth to those who would give up that information to save their skin."

"You wouldn't have to worry about that; I am completely on my own. I haven't had contact with anyone from the Order of the Phoenix or Dumbledore's Army," Hermione blurted out, not knowing why she felt the need to inform him. She bit her lip, her mind running a million miles a minute. She had been cut off from the world for a long time, only knowing what the Daily Prophet wrote. The Daily Prophet had always been corrupt, but she assumed that under the Dark Lord's control, Rita was writing the truth.

She bit her lip, undecided if she wanted to agree to help immediately. She decided that she could always take the cowards way out and run if anything went wrong. She looked at the man across from her, he had a look of concern plastered across his face. He seemed almost desperate. Again, what did she have to lose?

"I'll help you."

"Good, now let's— "

"No. I have some stipulations if I am going to work with you," Hermione interrupted him. He looked like he wanted to hex her, but nodded his head encouraging her to continue.

"Since this is your plan, I will just assume that you will be calling most, if not all of the shots. I, at least, want to have the chance to include my input before plans take place. Second, I have been living in boxes for the past three years, and I would rather not do that when you have a perfectly good house here that seems empty. Lastly, when the time comes, I want to be able to reach out to trustworthy members of The Order of the Phoenix and Dumbledore's Army. I have yet to hear your plan, but I know that they will be a helpful resource when trying to take him down," she said, without taking a breath.

He nodded his head once more. "I had already planned to clue you in, with regard to all the plans—that is why I need you. You are the smartest witch of your age, and this is accomplished easier with someone like you," he said, sighing. "Also, you are more than welcome to take a room here at Lestrange Manor. There will be occasional visits from Death Eaters, so you will need to hide if they come calling without an invitation."

She nodded in understanding and opened her mouth to ask about her third request. Rabastan put his hand up to stop her, "As for your third request, I will not grant it at this time. If we continue to work together and it comes to the point where we need them, we will make that decision then."

"Thank you," she whispered, finishing off the rest of her drink. "Now, tell me of these plans that you have." She set her glass on the desk in front of her, with her hands clasped in her lap waiting patiently for him

"Well, Granger," he drawled, pouring more firewhiskey into her glass. "It all starts when I was freshly graduated from Hogwarts."

She grabbed her glass, and settled back into the chair, trying to get comfortable. She did not doubt in her mind that this was going to be a long story and one that was vital to taking down You-Know-Who.

"My other brother, Rodolphus graduated a few years ahead of me and immediately joined the Dark Lord's forces. My parents were so proud. You see, they felt the Dark Lord had the right idea—ridding the world of those with impure blood. I, on the other hand, felt differently because of all the time I spent with my uncle Florin Lestrange," he said to her.

Looking at her confused face, he laughed. "I know it doesn't seem like it, but there is a reason for this backstory. Give me a chance to explain everything."

She waved her hand, encouraging him to continue.

"As I said, I spent a lot of time with my uncle Florin, much to my parents' dismay. He never had the same views on blood purity as them, but since he was family—they never banned me from going to see him."

"As I got older my brother tried to change my viewpoint but was never successful. I thought him and his so-called friends were tools, for lack of a better word. My last year at Hogwarts, the Dark Lord was at his most powerful—he was gaining followers with many of them being my fellow Slytherin classmates. Once graduation day came, my brother once more approached me and informed me that he had requested an audience with the Dark Lord for me. Claimed he did it so that we could both live in a better world, a world where we didn't have to hide our magic," he said, pausing briefly. Hermione was on the edge of her seat, desperately craving the story.

A dark look crossed Rabastan's face as he continued the story—it was alarming. Almost like he was reliving a disturbing moment in his life.

"I refused. But Rodolphus wouldn't take no for an answer," he said, his voice laced with anger. "Before I could defend myself, he whipped his wand out and turned it on me. At that moment, a voice in my head was telling me what to do, and I couldn't tell it no…" He trailed off.

"The Imperius Curse," Hermione whispered, tears falling down her cheeks. She had been through a world of hurt, but she had never been forced into something like that. Her heart was broken for someone who had once been good but had been forced against his will to commit various heinous crimes.

He nodded, slamming his tumbler on the desk. In anger, he shoved his chair back sending papers flying to the floor. He walked to the window and looked out the window presumably in deep thought. Hermione stayed put, processing the information she had been given so far.

Making a decision, she walked over to Rabastan and wrapped her arms around his waist. He visibly stiffened but immediately relaxed into her embrace. She assumed that, like her, it had been a long time since he had been offered physical or emotional comfort. Hermione was surprised at how normal this felt. She had her nose nuzzled into the back of a Death Eater's back, and he was allowing her to comfort him. There was more to the story, she knew, but it would have to wait until daybreak—neither of them was in a right state to continue tonight. No matter the consequences, she knew she was going to help this man. She was going to fight for everything that they had lost. For Harry. For Ron. For the Wizarding World.

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 _Feel free to leave a review! I make aesthetics for each chapter, find me on Tumblr: alexandraoalretha_

 _This story is almost complete and will be updated weekly!_


	2. Chapter 2 — Rabastan's Story

Hermione woke when the sun started streaming through the curtains in the room she had been shown to the night before. Despite only getting around six hours of sleep, she felt incredibly rested. She hadn't realized how profound an effect sleeping on the ground and in boxes had had on her body.

Last night she had been so exhausted she had forgone exploring the room and the attached en-suite. She made her way into the bathroom and groaned at the sight—it was beautiful. She wasted no time shedding her clothes and throwing them into the corner. She had no plans of ever putting on that drab, stained, and dirty clothing ever again. The shower was like a waterfall, cascading down her back. She kept increasing the temperature of the water until it was impossible for it to get any hotter. It was burning her skin, but she felt the need to wash off the last three years of her life.

Hermione had no idea how long she spent in the shower before her hands started to become prune-like. After drying off, Hermione made her way back into the bedroom wrapped in a luxurious, purple towel. She then realized that she didn't have any attire to change into and all of the clothing inside her beaded bag was just as destroyed as the clothes she had just taken off. Three years of sleeping rough hadn't done any of her items justice. Taking a deep breath, she knew she only had one choice. She was going to have to walk around the castle in nothing, but a towel looking for Rabastan.

The first place she decided to look, she found him. He was sitting in the study from the night before hunched over the desk, pouring over various documents. She hated to disturb him as he looked deep in thought, but she was in desperate need of something to wear.

She knocked on the door, and he immediately looked up. "Uhm, sorry to disturb you, but I seem to have a bit of a problem," she said, looking down at her towel.

He seemed to realize then that she was standing there clad in just a towel. She watched him become flustered, and Hermione almost felt bad, but she had had no other choice.

"Gr-r-ranger," he finally sputtered out. "I'll be sure to send one of my elves out for some clothing today. Is there anything specific that you need?"

"No, maybe if I could just get a mix of muggle clothes and robes though? You never know when they both could come in handy," she suggested.

He nodded and seemed to have regained his composure. "You'll have a new wardrobe by lunchtime," he promised.

"Thank you," she said, turning towards the door and looking back at Rabastan, there was one other thing she wanted to request from him. "Rabastan?"

He looked up at her when she addressed him. "If I could also have a bathrobe?" she asked. A blush crept up his cheeks, and he nodded his head once more. Before she could embarrass him further, she hurried back to her room.

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As soon as she left his study, he let out the breath he didn't realize he was holding in. She had waltzed into his study wearing nothing, but a towel. He felt like a dirty, old, pervert. The sight of a girl who was twenty years younger than him, wearing almost nothing, had a disturbingly physical effect on him. His erection was trapped inside his slacks, becoming almost unbearable to handle. He knew he would have to take care of it sooner or later. He chose sooner. But first, he needed to send his house-elf, Milsey to pick up clothes for the girl.

"Milsey," he called. She appeared almost immediately, prepared to serve her master.

"What can Milsey do for you, Master?" she said, her voice high-pitched and squeaky.

"Miss Granger will be staying with us long-term. She is in dire need of appropriate clothing—both muggle and magical. Also, please pick up some formal wear as well as a bathrobe," he told the small creature.

Milsey bowed and snapped her fingers, disappearing from sight. Rabastan fell back into his chair and groaned. Knowing he needed relief before he could focus on the plans in front of him, he unzipped his trousers and pulled his erection out. He made sure to ward the doors—he didn't need anyone, especially Granger, walking in on him during a moment of weakness.

He took his hard member in his hand and slowly starting stroking up and down, spreading the precum each time it leaked out of the tip. He closed his eyes and tried to fantasize about anyone other than Hermione Granger. It was a lost cause if there ever was one. The moment his eyes shut, he pictured a young woman in a plush bath towel standing in front of him.

He groaned at the sight.

He knew he should stray away from thinking about the young woman, but his desire overcame any logical thought. He let his fantasies run wild, not caring if the woman in them was someone he could never touch.

 _She slowly sauntered over to him, dropping the towel as she drew nearer. She stood fully nude, her breasts pert and nipples hard. Dropping to her knees, she took his hard and leaking member into her mouth sucking him like it was her last meal. She hollowed her cheeks and sheathed her teeth, allowing him to hit the back of her throat easily. Unable to control himself, he thrust into her mouth, forcing her to take his full length. It wasn't long before he came into her mouth and he watched her swallow every last drop._

He opened his eyes and came back to reality. The fantasy had left him sweating profusely and his hands sticky. He felt like a teenager; wanking to a girl he found attractive. Well, it would have to do for now—his lifestyle didn't exactly invite women in. Casting a cleaning charm on his hand and clothing, he put himself back together and got back to work.

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Hermione trudged back up to her room, still wrapped in nothing but a towel. She thought about the effect she had on Rabastan and how he probably hadn't been with a woman in a long time. She didn't know for sure, but by the way he was acting—he seemed just as aroused as she was.

Yes, she had been aroused by Rabastan Lestrange. She hadn't been looked at the way he looked at her since…well, since never. Due to being on the run and fighting a war, having sexual escapades was the last thing on her mind. But he had looked quite appealing in all black. A bad boy had always done something to her—or at least that is what she'd been telling herself since being attracted to Draco Malfoy years ago during school.

She bit her bottom lip and tried to steer her thoughts away from Rabastan. If she didn't, she would soon find herself in bed with her fingers between her thighs, bringing herself to orgasm thinking of him. She felt shy at the thought. Finally reaching her room, she fell onto the bed realizing how tired she still was and was asleep before her head hit the pillow.

Hermione woke a few hours later at the sound of apparition. Looking around the room in confusion, she saw a small figure inside the wardrobe. She quietly got up from the bed, readjusted her towel and saw that it was a house-elf hanging various items of clothing.

She tried to sneak back to her bed quietly not wanting to disturb her, but the small elf heard her.

"Excuse me, Miss," the little elf squeaked. "My name is Milsey. Master sent me out to fetch you some clothing." The small elf then held out a purple, silk bathrobe for Hermione to take. It did not go unnoticed by Hermione that it was the same color as the towel she was currently wearing.

"Thank you Milsey," Hermione said, slipping the robe over her shoulders, letting the towel drop after she was completely covered.

"You are welcome, Miss! Let Milsey know if you need anything else," the elf squeaked before popping out of the room. Hermione walked into the closet to see what Milsey had fetched for her. She gasped when she turned on the light—the closet was full of everything she could have wished for in another life. There was a variety of clothing; both magical and muggle.

For today, she chose a pair of jeans and a flowy t-shirt. They needed to get down to business today—he still had to explain his story and clue her in on his plan. Not to mention she was starving. She couldn't remember the last time she ate, especially a decent meal.

She made her way down the stairs, hoping to find Rabastan still holed up in his study. It would probably be easiest to multi-task; listen and eat simultaneously. She peeked into his study, but it was empty. Frowning, she made her way towards the dining room, thinking maybe he decided to take lunch in there instead. He wasn't there either. Now she didn't know where she could find him. This house was huge—she would inevitably get lost wandering the hallways.

"Milsey," she called, not knowing what else to do. The house-elf popped up immediately and addressed Hermione.

"Milsey at your service, Miss," she said, bowing low.

"Where might I find Rabastan?" she asked.

"Master is in the kitchen Miss," the elf replied.

"Could you point me in the right direction?" she asked Milsey. The young elf pointed down the hall, and Hermione thanked her. Milsey popped out, back to her other duties Hermione assumed.

Hermione thought Rabastan spending time in the kitchen was odd, especially for a pureblood family like the Lestranges. Through her previous research, she found that pureblood families usually steered clear of the kitchen, allowing the house-elves to reign free. Though she needed to remember Rabastan's story—he was much different from his immediate family.

Just like Milsey said, she found Rabastan in the kitchen, standing over the stove. He was cooking with magic, ingredients flying across the room. Hermione took a seat at the island, mesmerized by the man in front of her. She had always enjoyed cooking as well but scarcely had the opportunity to do so throughout the past four years on the run. She didn't count the little amounts of mushrooms they hunted or canned soup; anyone could do that.

She must have made a noise because he turned around and smiled at her. "Granger, I hope your wardrobe was to your satisfaction," he said formally, turning back toward the stove.

"It was. Thank you," Hermione told him, politely. "What are you making?"

"Oh, this and that. I enjoy throwing ingredients together and seeing what concoction I can come up with. I always enjoyed potions, and this is very similar. My mother never let me near the kitchen though—she thought it to be improper."

Hermione nodded as he confirmed her earlier suspicions. He most likely never cooked at home, apart from when he was with his uncle Florin.

"I hope you're hungry," he said, placing the dishes on the island.

"Famished," she replied. He gestured to the food, nonverbally telling her to 'dig in.' She grabbed a plate and piled on everything he had made. He did the same. Neither of them spoke while they ate; just silently sat side-by-side tucking in. Hermione was well into her second helping of food before Rabastan started to speak.

"I figured we could talk while we eat. Then, I can show you the physical copies of the plans afterward," Rabastan suggested.

She nodded. "Sounds like a plan to me," she said, continuing to take small bites of the food in front of her.

"Let's see. I believe last night we stopped right as I was telling you about my brother Rodolphus putting me under the Imperius curse," he said, his voice cracking.

"I'm sorry," Hermione sympathized. "I know this is difficult for you to talk about, but I think it will be easier for me to understand you and work with you if I know the whole backstory."

Rabastan nodded in understanding. "I know, but it is difficult to talk about. I was under the Imperius curse for a long time. People just assume I'm this horrible Death Eater, but I started doing the Dark Lord's bidding when I wasn't even myself!" he shouted, banging his fist on the counter, making the cutlery rattle on the plates.

She placed her hand on his arm, hoping to calm him down. "I am sorry, Rabastan. This should have never happened to you," Hermione said.

"Granger—" Rabastan started.

Hermione interrupted before he could finish his thought. "You know, you should call me by my given name if we are going to be working together," she said, with a smile.

"Hermione," he said, taking her name for a test-drive on his lips. "Hermione." She nodded with approval.

He took a deep breath and began his story once more. "Ever since that day, Rodolphus had me under his control. Once in a while, I fought it and came out of the trance-like state. Though, it wasn't long before Rodolphus realized I had broken free and put me back under. I was under the Imperius curse until our wands were taken when we were sent to Azkaban after the torture of the Longbottoms." Rabastan said, hurriedly. He seemed to want to get the story out of his system, and to be honest—she didn't blame him.

"I was entirely myself while we were in Azkaban. It was torture being in that horrid place, but I kept my sanity by telling myself I was innocent. As soon as we were broken out, Rodolphus immediately put me back under. I should have been expecting it, but I assumed he would just let me go. I was wrong and was forced once again to do the Dark Lord's bidding against my will. Just like last time, I tried to fight it, but it was as strong as the caster. If I would have fought too hard, I could have permanently damaged myself—similar to the effects of the Cruciatus curse after a prolonged period," he said, taking a deep breath.

"So why aren't you under the Imperius curse now?" Hermione asked, her hand drifting towards the pocket of her jeans that held her wand. She was concerned that he still was under the curse and being in his presence could potentially be a death wish.

"I killed my brother," he said simply. "One day I fought the curse and broke through during a small window of weakness. I didn't hesitate to kill him on the spot."

"How long ago was that? Because that means you have been acting of your own free will as a Death Eater since his death," Hermione concluded.

"It was during the Battle of Hogwarts. I'll admit that it was pure coincidence that I broke out during that time. It made it look more inconspicuous—his death was never blamed on me. He was merely a casualty of war. Although, the Dark Lord was extremely angry that one of his most loyal followers was killed in battle," he explained.

"So why have you never fled from your life as a Death Eater?" Hermione questioned.

"Once you take the mark, you promise a lifetime of servitude. If you flee, you are asking for death—an extremely painful one at that. I wasn't going to die by leaving when it wasn't something I signed up for of my own free will. That was the day I started constructing a plan to destroy him and all he believes in. We don't need another psychopath taking his place and starting this mess all over again," Rabastan said.

"But how are you going to live your life in peace when this is all over? Won't you have to answer for your crimes?" Hermione asked. She knew the Longbottom family and several other families would still want justice. They would love to see Rabastan, and the other Death Eaters be served a kiss from the Dementors.

"Well, that is where you come in little witch. I am hoping you'll be able to vouch for me after we are successful in this plan. You are the Gryffindor Golden Girl after all," he said winking, putting their dishes in the sink.

Hermione gaped at the description. She hadn't felt 'golden' in a long time. "Let's move this to the study," he said, not saying anything further. He walked out of the kitchen, and the only thing Hermione could do was follow.

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 _Feel free to leave a review! I make aesthetics for each chapter, find me on Tumblr: alexandraoalretha_


	3. Chapter 3 — A Stranger's Visit

Hermione was a half-step behind Rabastan the whole way to the study. She was racking her brain for ideas on what this plan could include, and coming up blank. The only way to completely rid the world of people who believed in the same ideals as the Dark Lord would be to kill them all, and that was impossible, wasn't it?

As soon as she entered his study, he warded the door keeping everyone out except for Milsey. Although they were alone, she assumed it was for their protection. He had mentioned the night before that it was possible that other Death Eaters would come calling without prior notice.

Hermione sat in the same chair from last night and crossed her legs. Rabastan pulled out several manila folders, bulging with information. He beckoned her closer, needing her to examine the documents in front of them, then left her be and wandered to the window as she scoured the documents. If she was reading everything correctly, the plan was to eliminate Death Eaters in the inner circle and any others who posed a threat. Only then, when Voldemort was at his weakest, would they be able to murder him.

"Rabastan," she called. He came closer and placed his arms on the back of her chair, leaning over her. With him being so close, her heart surely would beat out of her chest. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath before she began to speak.

"I am concerned only about one thing. How are we sure You-Know-Who hasn't created any more Horcruxes in the past three years? We destroyed all of them before, but…" she said, trailing off. If he had created more Horcruxes, she was going to be sucked back into the nightmare they had started during their sixth year. Before she could think about it further, Rabastan grabbed ahold of her shoulders, seeing in her eyes that she was in turmoil.

"Hermione," he said, his voice low. "I am sure he hasn't created any more Horcruxes. If you're looking closely enough it becomes obvious how weak he is, and I know a witch or wizard has to be extremely powerful to create a Horcrux."

She nodded her head, not trusting her voice not to give her emotions away. Talking about Horcruxes brought on an abundance of emotions. She heard Rabastan speaking to one of the portraits, but couldn't make out the words.

Hermione looked up, and the portrait gave her a small smile. "My lady," the portrait addressed her. "I assure you, the Dark Lord has not created any more Horcruxes."

"H-H-How do you know," she whispered, choking out the words.

"I have a portrait in Lionheart Hall, where Bellatrix and Rodolphus resided. Bellatrix still lives there, but now she shares the home with the Dark Lord. I am disguised as another portrait, or they surely would have taken me down long ago. But I have heard them speaking, and I am certain there are no other Horcruxes that we need to worry about," the portrait assured her.

"Why would they throw you out?" she questioned.

"Hermione. I would like to introduce you to my Uncle Florin," Rabastan said, formally introducing her to the portrait.

"Oh," was all she said, unable to comprehend anything at the moment. Hermione took a deep breath—she needed to pull herself together. There was no way she could accomplish this plan wearing her heart on her sleeve. She needed to shove the light down inside and let the darkness reign.

She could feel Rabastan staring at her, probably questioning whether or not he chose correctly when picking a side-kick. Taking another deep breath, she felt her magic purring under her skin. She had finally balanced her emotions out, and her magic was happy with her feat.

"I officially agree with your plan," she told Rabastan, formally. "I also think it would be a good idea to take a wizarding oath to protect both of us. If used correctly, it could make us stronger when together."

"I agree. Not as dangerous as an unbreakable vow, but still effects how potent one's magic is."

She held out her arm for him to grasp and he took it without hesitation. "I, Hermione Granger, take this Wizarding Oath and promise on my magic to assist, to the best of my ability, Rabastan Lestrange with his plans as previously discussed," she said as a whisk of magic encircled them.

"I, Rabastan Lestrange, take this Wizarding Oath and promise on my magic to fulfill the plans as previously discussed with Hermione Granger. I also do so swear to protect her to the best of my ability, allowing no harm to come to her while assisting me with this plan," he said as another whisk of magic encircled them, finally disappearing leaving a cloud of smoke in its wake.

Her magic hummed once more as they continued to hold each other's forearms. She gasped at the feeling—she had never taken a wizarding oath before, and if she assumed correctly, some of their magic was combining. When the feeling passed, a heaviness encompassed her arm, and it fell to her side, gravity taking over.

Hermione wanted to jump Rabastan at that moment and wrap her body around his. She could feel desire burning in the pit of her stomach, slowly coursing through her veins. As a flush crept up her cheeks, she timidly raised her head and looked right into Rabastan's eyes. Her breath caught in her throat when she saw he was just as affected as she was. She looked around in confusion—this wasn't supposed to happen during a wizarding oath, was it?

Before she could rack her brain for information, Rabastan grabbed her and pulled her against him. She could feel the bulge straining against his clothes and wanted nothing more than to take care of it for him. He kissed her with such fierce passion, their teeth clinking together from their aggressiveness. His tongue invaded her mouth, battling with her tongue, not allowing her control.

She went to unbuckle his belt to grab his member when they heard the whoosh of the fireplace. Someone had just arrived unannounced and adrenaline coursed through Hermione's body. She briefly looked at Rabastan, and he had already schooled his features to seem like he was just working in his office and not about to ravish a woman. He waved his wand briefly, and she assumed he was lowering the wards around the study. She dashed underneath the desk, casting a charm around her that would prevent them from discovering her if they were to cast a revealing charm.

She held her breath, awaiting what was to come. Rabastan took his place at the desk, and it so happened that she ended up right between his legs. The desire had died down but knew it could quickly build back up with some coaxing. She would have to control herself while she was under the desk. Doing anything but sitting there could put them both in jeopardy.

"Rabastan," she heard a voice say with a thick Russian accent. "I thought we might find you here."

"Dolohov," Rabastan responded. Hermione had to hold in a gasp—he was the one who cursed her in the Battle of the Department of Mysteries. She had a deep, purple scar running from her left shoulder down to her right hip. Shuddering at the thought of that horrid man being in the same room as her again, she brought her attention back to the conversation.

"—I don't know what happened with his witch, but he seemed pretty angry. What he needs a good night out with the boys. Are you in?" she heard Dolohov ask.

Rabastan didn't respond right away and clearly was trying to make a decision. She intentionally squeezed his thigh, telling him that he should go. She knew he couldn't read her mind, but hoped he would pick up on the subtle signal she was leaving. If he went, he could continue to keep suspicion off himself and keep the other Death Eaters happy.

He laid his hand on hers and squeezed it in return, almost as a sign of comfort. Hermione didn't know what he was trying to tell her, but she continued to sit as still as possible, hoping the other Death Eater would leave soon.

Hermione didn't pay attention to the rest of the conversation but instead laid her head down on Rabastan's knee. Before she realized what was happening, Rabastan was trying to push the chair back from the desk. She lifted her head and smiled at him, feeling a blush creep up her cheeks thinking about what they had been doing earlier.

"Come out from there, little witch," He said, his voice low.

"Is he gone?" she whispered back. He nodded his head, and she crawled out of the space beneath his desk. "I forgot about him," she said, wrapping her arms around her body.

"I promised to protect you, remember? I won't let him hurt you," Rabastan assured her.

"He already did," she whispered, tightening the grip on her body. He had a confused look on his face, but she didn't feel like sharing at the moment. He didn't push the subject any further, and for that she was grateful.

Rabastan wrapped his arms around her in an act of comfort. "Well, I won't let him hurt you again Hermione," he promised. She still couldn't wrap her head around it, but she felt safe wrapped in his arms. They had only met the previous day officially, but she felt at home with him. She didn't know where this would take them, but she was going to take what life threw at her and run with it.

She pulled away from him and looked up into his dark eyes. "I missed the last part of the conversation; are you going out with them tonight?"

"Yes, I thought it would be a good idea. Keeps my alibi in check if anything were to happen," Rabastan sighed. "I don't want to leave you here alone, but no one should bother you since they'll all be out."

"That does make me nervous, but I agree with you going. I was trying to signal you to bow to Dolohov's demands, so to speak, and go out with them," Hermione admitted, laying her head back on his chest.

"So I felt," he laughed. "Let's talk game plan for the rest of the afternoon before I have to succumb to Death Eater talk."

They broke apart and resumed their original places across the desk from one another. Talk of strategy filled the rest of their afternoon, planning each detail so it could be executed without hesitation. Dinner rolled around, and Milsey delivered it to the study, so they didn't waste any time. By the time Rabastan needed to leave for a boy's night out, Hermione felt extremely confident with the plan.

"I'll ward you in, little witch, but I also want you to ward your door as an extra precaution," he told her, a look of worry in his eyes. She hoped he was as brilliant at Occlumency as he was at everything else. Anyone who had the opportunity to invade his mind would immediately see her, sealing both their fates.

She wrapped her arms around him once more, assuring him she would be fine. "I'll be okay, Rabastan," she promised, pulling out two golden coins. "I made these back in school; they have a protean charm built in. If one of us needs the other, all you have to do is hold the coin and think of the words you want to send. When receiving a message, it will burn against your skin." She placed it around his neck, letting it fall beneath his shirt.

"You're brilliant," he complimented, placing a kiss on her forehead. She blushed at his compliment, loving the little touches they exchanged. She watched him walk out the door and strengthen the wards before he left.

Hermione hurriedly walked to her room, scared to be alone. She knew if needed, Milsey would come to her, but she didn't want to put her in danger. Warding her door, she collapsed on the bed and allowed her thoughts to drift towards her feelings surrounding Rabastan.

She found him attractive, even though he was a bit older. Despite the actions of their afternoon, she wanted to start as just friends. She wanted someone she would be able to confide in; someone she could find comfort in if necessary. After being on the run for so long, human companionship was something she deeply desired. Hugs and small kisses on the forehead were okay, but she would stop it if either of them tried to go further, for now.

She smiled to herself, grateful for her inner dialogue. Having no one else to go to for these types of issues, the voice inside her head would have to do. One might call her crazy, but—

Her thoughts were cut off by a knock at the door. She was hesitant to answer because Rabastan had just left and if Milsey needed her, she would just apparate directly into the room. Maybe whoever it was, Rabastan trusted. Gripping her wand tight, she decided there was only one way to find out.

Her wand at the ready, she flung the door open ready to pounce if danger presented itself. A hooded figure stood in the hallway, unmoving.

"Show yourself," she shouted, grabbing the coin around her neck with her free hand. She sent a quick message to Rabastan alerting him of the strange presence inside the home.

"I'm surprised to see you here Hermione Granger," the voice told her, slowing lowering their hood. "Especially in one of the Lestrange's ancestral homes."

Hermione gasped, her jaw dropping. She thought at first that Rabastan had come back early and was trying to frighten her. After the initial shock passed, she realized it couldn't be him. This person had lighter hair and looked much older than Rabastan with grey streaking his beard. If she wasn't mistaken, she was standing in front of a very alive _Rodolphus Lestrange._

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 _I make aesthetics for every chapter. Find me on_ tumblr _at alexandraoalretha. Feel free to leave a review!_


	4. Chapter 4 — In the Night

Hermione kept her wand drawn, slowly moving back toward her bed. The further she moved away from the door, the closer he moved. She realized her mistake almost immediately, when he stepped into the room, slamming the door shut. She grabbed the necklace around her neck again with her free hand, sending multiple messages to Rabastan summoning him for help.

Hermione shot several curses off at the older Lestrange, but he blocked and dodged each one. To her surprise, he lunged at her knocking her wand out of her hand. She heard it hit the hardwood floor and roll out of sight. He wrestled her onto the bed, but not without a fight. She clawed and scratched at him hoping to gouge his skin with fingernails. She felt warm liquid on her hands, knowing she had succeeded in drawing blood. If he was hurt, he didn't show it and continued to push her down into the bed. He finally pinned her arms above her head, and she only had one thing left to do — scream. She screamed as hard and as loud as her lungs would allow. He briefly let go of her arms and reached toward the floor to grab something. Without warning, he jabbed her in the cheek with his wand and silenced her. She continued to open her mouth, but no sound emitting.

"Got you now, Mudblood," the voice rasped in her ear. She frowned as the moonlight shone through windows highlighting the man's features. She had been wrong on her assumption earlier — this wasn't Rodolphus Lestrange at all! Before she could think further about the identity of her attacker, he pushed his knee in between her legs forcing them apart.

Her lip quivered, knowing he would steal her virtue if given a chance. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, attempting to staunch the tears threatening to fall. She was hoping that Rabastan would come to her rescue. Or would he? Maybe this was part of his plan all along. If so, she let herself become too comfortable, and she hated herself for trusting someone too soon.

She felt him jab the wand in her cheek once more and felt the silencing charm lift. "I want to hear you scream Mudblood," he taunted her. She screamed again directly into her attacker's eardrum, attempting to buck him off. In retaliation, he ripped off the jeans she was wearing, exposing her undergarments.

"No one is coming for you. Little Lestrange left you here…" he screamed in her face, spit flying from his mouth before abruptly being cut off. He suddenly stopped speaking and his grip on her relaxed —blood suddenly pouring from his mouth. In her attempt to escape, she hadn't noticed the door opening. The man was now choking on his own blood, but before she could push him off, he was pulled off of her.

Scrambling off the bed, she saw Rabastan tying up her attacker with a menacing expression gracing his features. Immediately dropping to the floor, she felt around for her wand that had been flung from her fingers moments earlier, not trusting Rabastan enough to keep her eyes off of him. Quickly grabbing her fallen wand, she moved toward the chair that held her beaded bag. Placing it around her neck, she slowly walked towards the door hoping to escape and apparate once outside the wards of the manor.

Rabastan seemed stuck in a trance-like state staring at the body bleeding across the wood floor, so she took her chance and sprinted out the open door. She stopped at the bottom of the stairs to catch her breath before picking up the pace once more. Her abrupt departure must have brought him back to reality, and she heard him running down the stairs after her. She was running because she was afraid. Afraid that this had all been a scam, afraid that she let her hopes get up, just to have them crashing back down. She might as well cut her losses now and start her life again on the streets.

She could see the slight shimmer of the wards and knew she was close to escaping. Before she could leave the wards, another body collided with hers. Her wand once again was flung from her fingers as her body skidded across the grass, her face colliding with the cold, hard ground.

"Don't go running off before we both have an explanation, little witch," Rabastan said, panting. He pocketed her wand, picked her up and threw her over his shoulder. Angry and frustrated, Hermione started flailing her limbs, hoping to make contact with his precious family jewels. If she made contact, gave no indication and ignored her the rest of the way into the house.

She thought he would have set her down once they reached the inside, but was surprised when he tightened his group and made his way up the stairs. She stopped moving her limbs, scared he might lose his grip on her or trip. It wouldn't do either of them any good to plunge down the stairs to their death; although it was tempting after this evenings experiences.

When they reached the room Hermione had previously claimed as hers, he set her down but kept a tight grip on her arm. Turning towards her, Rabastan opened his mouth several times before finding the words he wanted to say.

"Now, Hermione. I want you to know that I had nothing to do with this," he said, forcing her to look at him.

Hermione snorted, doubting his promises. She tried once more to tug her wrist from his grip but was unsuccessful. His grip tightened, yanking her towards him. He spoke again, but this time directly into her ear and for the first time since meeting him the day before she was genuinely afraid.

"Listen to me and listen carefully. I took a Wizarding Vow earlier today promising that no harm would come to you. I wouldn't be standing here feeling the magic of our vow if I had betrayed it." As he pulled away from her, his eyes softened. He cupped her chin, forcing her to look him in the eyes. She looked into his eyes for a moment knowing what he was saying rang true before turning away and walking into the room, Rabastan still tightly gripping her arm.

Walking into the room, Rabastan had lit the fireplace lighting up the room. She gasped seeing the figure on the ground. "I recognize him from the Department of Mysteries," she said, bending over the man lying seemingly dead on the floor. She sent a questioning look over her shoulder. "Colin Mulciber, inner circle Death Eater," he said, answering her unasked question.

Bringing herself back up to full height, she held out her hand nonverbally asking for her wand. Rabastan looked skeptical so she placed her hands on her hips, threatening him to tell her no. He pulled it out of his back pocket, and she grabbed for it, almost falling over when he pulled it away from her.

He twirled it around his fingers, taunting her. "I only want to re-arm myself before getting a closer look," she explained. Only after she assured him once more that she wasn't going to use it against him or make a run for it did he return her wand.

Crouching down to the floor, she shifted the body so he was now laying on his back. Bringing her fingers up to his blood covered neck, she pressed down looking for a pulse. It was there, but it was weak. She and Rabastan needed to discuss their next course of action. The way she saw it they had two options. The first option was to enact their original plan and finish off Mulciber as he was an inner-circle Death Eater. This would further them along without putting in too much effort. The second option was to heal the Death Eater currently dying on the floor and use him to further their cause. If he was one of the Death Eaters Rabastan could trust he could be beneficial.

The gears in her mind grinding, Hermione felt Rabastan pull her off the floor away from the body. He led her into the hallway hoping to appeal to the logical side of Hermione rather than her emotional side. He knew that her emotions would want her to try to save the Death Eater despite that he assaulted her, but he knew saving him would only cause their mission problems.

"Little witch," he said, bringing her back to reality. "I know what we should do, but I want to hear what you have to say first."

"I think we should let him die," she said, emotionless. "He is obviously dangerous. He just broke into your home, attacked me and attempted to rape me." He reached for her, but she held up her hand, stopping him. "Don't touch me right now."

He understood as she was just assaulted and almost raped, but he wanted to offer her some sort of comfort. "Do you want to do the honors? Or shall I?" he asked her.

Without answering him, she walked back into the room with her wand drawn. She looked down at her attacker, barely breathing covered in drying blood. Death was something she had become used to over the years. As a teenager she grew used to witnessing death due to her friendship with Harry Potter and the wizarding world being in turmoil.

Raising her wand, she whispered, "Avada Kedavra," meaning every word. She channeled every angry emotion; all the hate she had for Death Eaters and Voldemort into the curse. As the curse hit his body, it jerked; a sign that the soul was no longer present. She felt odd, almost liberated at her first kill in almost three years. Her emotions were wreaking havoc on her as she knew it wasn't normal to feel gleeful after murdering a person. Perhaps it was because he deserved it. Idly she wondered if her good feelings over her kill meant she deserved to die as well.

Walking into the room after hearing the little witch whisper the curse, Rabastan saw her rooted to the floor, unmoving.

"Little witch," he called, slowing moving toward her. She didn't move an inch and didn't respond.

"Little witch," he tried again. "Hermione!" Still nothing. He walked over to where the witch was standing and lifted her into his arms. He walked toward his room, not trusting her to cope by herself. As he was lowering her to the bed, she spoke.

"Bath," she croaked. He nodded and carried her to the bathroom. He set her down on the bathroom chair, unsure if she was able to stand on her own. After she continued to sit still, he realized she was probably going into shock and needed some help, fast.

"Milsey," he called. His elf appeared immediately, ready to serve her master.

"Master," she said, bowing. "What can Milsey do for you?" She looked curiously at Hermione, almost frightened for the witch.

"She's going into shock Milsey," he said quickly. "Fetch some potions." The elf apparated away immediately and Rabastan turned back to Hermione, concern etched on his face.

Knowing that loose clothing usually helped a person going into shock, he started peeling Hermione's clothes off and lowered her to the floor, elevating her feet. Milsey reappeared then, seemingly not shocked by the witch's state of undress.

"Here Master," Milsey said, shoving the potions into Rabastan's hands. Missy Hermione needs to swallow each of these. I hold her head; you give the potions." He was a little shocked by the elf giving orders, but he knew it was out of fear for the girl.

Rabastan's hands were shaking unable to uncork the vials by hands. Grabbing his discarded wand, he opened all of the vials simultaneously. He looked up into Hermione's face, and her eyes were fluttering, almost like she was going into a seizure-like state. He quickly focused on her lips, pushing them apart. One by one he administered the potions, assisting her swallowing by gently rubbing her throat.

The potions immediately took effect causing Hermione's eyes to flutter open. She groaned, unsure of what had just happened. Seeing Rabastan leaning over her and Milsey holding her head with both faces expressing concern, she knew it couldn't have been good. Moving to sit up, she paused.

"Uh, where are my clothes?" she asked, her face burning with embarrassment. She was clad in nothing but her bra and knickers. Rabastan coughed, obviously hiding his discomfort as well. He looked away, unable to hide the blush that crept up his neck any longer.

"Missy Hermione was in shock," the elf said, filling Hermione in. "Master Rabastan knew that loosening clothing helped those in shock." Rabastan nodded his head in agreement.

"Thank you Milsey. I think I am okay now," she whispered. The elf nodded and left the room with a pop. "Could I have a bath now?" She was still covered in the blood of Colin Mulciber, and she desperately needed to scrub it off. "I promise I am fine now," she said, dragging herself off the floor.

He looked at her questioningly, expressing concern for her wellbeing. Deciding she was okay enough to bathe without assistance, he moved toward the door. "Call if you need anything," he said, leaving the room to give her privacy.

Deciding a bath would leave her feeling even dirtier in her state, she turned on the shower. She desperately needed to rid her skin of the caked on blood underneath her fingernails, as well as the cloud of death that seemed to be hovering over her. Shedding her undergarments, she slid into the scalding water with a sigh. Taking the loofa around the tap, she scrubbed her skin red. She scrubbed so hard it almost looked as if she was sporting a rash once she was done. With the blood washed away, she started on her hair. Washing her hair, ridding it of blood and knots, she finally felt that she was clean enough to sleep for the night. She knew in the morning; she would feel the need to have another.

Getting out of the shower, she grabbed the towel on the edge of the counter. After drying off her body, she realized her robe was still in her own bathroom and walking through the manor again in just a towel was not an option. She saw Rabastan's robe hanging on the back of the door and took it off the hook. Slipping it over her shoulders it was a little baggy, but it would suffice for the time being. Running her hands through her hair in an attempt to rid it of knots, she found herself unsuccessful and gave it up as a lost cause. Taking a deep breath, she grabbed the handle of the doorknob and walked into Rabastan's bedroom.

She laughed softly as she saw him perched up in bed, sporting reading glasses, deeply immersed in a book. Hearing her, he put away his book and took off his glasses. Moving toward her he asked, "How do you feel?"

"Fine," she replied. "Those potions definitely did their job. Now, I am just extremely exhausted." She said yawning. She moved to sit in the chair near the fire, Rabastan taking the seat opposite her.

"Well, we did have an eventful evening," he replied, crossing his legs.

"I meant to ask you about that. How did you explain your abrupt departure from your boys' night out?"

"I said I wasn't feeling well and then dashed out of the bar," he said, laughing. "The fact that this galleon was burning my skin and I kept groping at it, helped my story for sure."

She laughed with him. "Well, that was the point of them. In fifth year, we started an illegal defense group called Dumbledore's Army. Every member had one and would alert them of the time of the meetings. I needed everyone to be sure they wouldn't miss it."

"You're brilliant; you know?" She blushed at his compliment and stood up from the chair. "Well, I should be off to bed."

"I cleaned up your room as best I could, but if you'd like you can sleep here," Rabastan offered. She smiled and teased, "Not just trying to get me in your bed are you Rabastan?"

His face flushed but admitted that was not the case. "Honestly, after seeing you going into shock I am just a little worried about you," he said. "And Milsey has not yet had a chance to deep clean your room. The blood..."

"I'll stay here if it makes you feel better, Rabastan," she reasoned, interrupting him. "You are not useful to either of us if you stay up all night worrying."

Hermione hopped into bed, the robe still tightly wrapped around her body. "I need to shower still. I'll be right back." She watched him walk into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. She sighed and pulled the covers up to her chin, trying to get comfortable. Her mind was still reeling from the events of the night. She realized she forgot to ask Rabastan how Mulciber had found her in the first place, but figured it could wait until morning.

Before long, she felt Rabastan crawl beneath the sheets, the bed dipping with his weight. He pulled her to him, enveloping her in his strong arms, his breath hot on her neck. She cuddled up against him, loving the warmth he brought. She fell asleep immediately, dreaming of deaths she wouldn't be able to recall in the morning.

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 _I make aesthetics for every chapter. Follow me on Tumblr at alexandraoalretha. Feel free to leave a review; I want to hear from you!_


	5. Chapter 5 — Inception

Hermione awoke with a start and looked around frantically, confused. Why was she not lying in her own bed? Feeling a heavy arm across her middle she finally realized she was in Rabastan's arms, his body curled up against her own. The events of the night before flashing before her eyes, Hermione groaned. An intelligible spew of words fell out of Rabastan's mouth, muffled by the pillow.

She pulled herself out of his arms and padded to the bathroom. Looking into the mirror Hermione was struck by the dark circles under her eyes and the way her hair looked like she had been struck by lightning. Darkness seemed to be seeping from her skin, figuratively of course.

Killing someone not only left a bad taste in her mouth, but suppressed the light in her, making way for the darkness to surface. Sure, she had killed people before, but never like this. Grabbing Rabastan's toothbrush, she brushed her teeth several times before she felt clean. She knew she needed another shower before feeling truly cleansed, but it could wait until later. Rabastan needed to get out of bed; she had some questions.

She walked back into the room the smell of bacon wafting led her to the sitting area where breakfast was waiting. Rabastan must have called Milsey as soon as she left the bedroom and hadn't hesitated to dig in. Sitting across from him, she pulled two pieces of toast onto her plate, not bothering to butter them up. They ate in silence, Hermione not wanting to spoil her breakfast with talk of murder and rape. Last night was horrifying enough; she didn't need to relive it during her first meal of the day.

As she finished her meal, she sat back in her chair and studied her breakfast companion. He was reading The Daily Prophet, sipping on Earl Grey. Who knew Death Eater's liked tea? She giggled at her own joke and Rabastan looked up at her curiously.

"What?" he asked, lifting an eyebrow, taking another sip of his tea.

"I was just laughing at my own joke is all," she giggled again, smiling.

"I'm glad you can still laugh after last nights fiasco," he said, smiling wryly at her. Her smile immediately dropped and her eyes fell to the floor. She knew he hadn't meant to, but reminding her of the horrors of the night before killed the mood. Sighing, Hermione knew a more thorough and in depth conversation of the events from the night needed to be hashed out and it needed to happen…now.

"Rabastan…" she said, pausing before continuing. "How did he even know? How did he know I was here? Is someone watching you? Is it safe for me to be here?" The questions just fell from her mouth, one after another, and she found herself entirely unable to stop the flow. Hermione looked at him, and, to her utter dismay, he was laughing at her! She opened and closed her mouth several times, unable to find the words to scold him like a child. She took a deep breath, attempting to calm herself down before she spoke again.

"I just want to know how Colin Mulciber knew I was here and found his way to my room," she said through gritted teeth.

His laughing subsided, the seriousness of the conversation taking over. "I'm sorry for laughing Hermione," he said sincerely. She nodded, motioning him to continue. "I have my suspicions about how he got in and how he knew you were here."

"And?" she said, prodding him for more information. She wanted to hear his suspicions, but he seemed reluctant to divulge any more information. As someone who could read people easily, she could tell he was having an internal battle with himself.

"Rabastan," she said, reaching across the table for his hand. "I need to know." He took a deep breath and gripped her hand tight.

"I think the other Death Eaters are on to me. It explains everything. Antonin's visit and begging me to go out with him. It seems to me that Mulciber was the one keeping watch on the house, saw me leave, and made his move then. What I don't know is if they are acting on the Dark Lord's order or of their own accord," he said, surmising what had happened.

Hermione sat there in shock. She thought the manor would have been safe with wards, but it was obvious that dark wizards knew had to dismantle them without notifying the caster. It was clear what needed to happen next.

Rabastan drug himself from his thoughts of the other Death Eaters and the death of Colin Mulciber to see the witch across from him, deep in thought. It was clear she was formulating a plan in her mind. He smiled glad he had the brilliant witch on his side.

"Tell me of your plans," he told her.

"What makes you think I have a plan?" she asked him, raising an eyebrow.

"I might have only met you officially two days ago, but I can tell when the gears in your brain are turning. You have a plan."

"I do…but it's complicated. We are already in danger, but this will make it much, much worse," she admitted, wringing her hands in her lap.

"How about we go down to my office and drink some firewhiskey while discussing your plan?" he suggested.

"It's ten in the morning, Rabastan!"

"And? I don't think we are going to get through this without it."

"Maybe you're right."

Rabastan walked down to the study, the little witch right on his heels. He could tell she was anxious to get her plan out in the open, and he was all ears. He honestly was at a loss on how to deal with inevitable falling out from the dark that was to happen in the coming days. Walking into the study, he immediately bee-lined for the liquor cabinet grabbing the firewhiskey. He almost grabbed glasses, but decided against it; this was a time that it was acceptable to drink straight from the bottle.

Instead of sitting across the table from him, the little witch had pulled her chair next to his. It seemed she wanted to be close to him, but he was unsure why. Maybe she felt unsafe as an after effect of last night, or maybe she wanted them to speak in lower tones. She must have seen him looking at her oddly because she shrugged and sat down. He followed and sat down behind his desk and took a long drag of the firewhiskey. He welcomed the burn down his throat, coughing as his swallowed. Rabastan held the bottle out to her, telling her to take a sip.

"No glasses?" she questioned, accepting the offering. He returned a shrug and she didn't push the matter further. He watched as she took a large gulp and sputtered afterwards.

"Careful little witch," he said, taking the bottle from her and setting it on the desk. "Alright, tell me what's happening in that brain of yours."

"Okay, I have a question first," Hermione said. "What happened to Mulciber's body?"

"I had Milsey take care of it," he said, not expanding on it further. He felt the less she knew, the better, but by her reaction he needed to give her more.

"She took him and transformed him into a platinum bone. She then apparated to the middle of the Dornoch Forest and buried it," he admitted to her.

"And the room?"

"Clean," he replied simply. She nodded her head and he knew she didn't care to hear more about the cleaning of her chambers.

"I don't want to go back in there."

"I assumed as much. You are more than welcome to choose another room as your own, or continue sleeping with me in mine," he said, hoping she would choose the latter.

She didn't give him an answer and he didn't push the matter further. Instead he took another swig of whiskey and passed the bottle to her once more. She didn't hesitate lifting the bottle to her lips. A little whiskey fell out of her mouth and rested on her lip. Gods, he wanted nothing more than to lap up the fallen drink off her plump lips. She licked her lips and handed the bottle back to him, snapping him out of his stupor.

He needed to get it together. What happened yesterday should have never happened and she acted the way she did due to the oath, he convinced himself. "Tell me about this plan," he said, hoping to distract himself from his thoughts.

"It is not going to go unnoticed by the other Death Eaters that one of their own is missing. The death of Colin Mulciber will be broadcasted across all mediums and since he was important, the Dark Lord will want revenge I am assuming," she started. "If your assumptions are right that the other Death Eaters are acting on their own, they were in on the plan and they will know that Mulciber died here."

"You see where I'm going with this?" she asked him. He nodded and she continued. "It's a lose-lose situation for you. The other Death Eaters will know; you're dead. The Dark Lord will know; you're dead. Either way, if they are acting as a group of on the Dark Lord's orders, you will die."

He took another gulp of whiskey, only now fully realizing the gravity of the situation. He was a dead man. "Hermione, what do I do?"

"Well, the question really is what do we do?" she said smiling. "I promised on my magic that I would go through this with you. Just because there's now a target on your head doesn't mean anything has changed." He looked up at her, amazed by the witch sitting across from him.

She pointed to herself. "You're looking at Undesirable No. 1 right here. You think I'm scared of having a target on my head? Last night might have rattled the both of us, but we can handle it. We are Hermione Granger and Rabastan Lestrange," she said with a flourish of her arm and a laugh.

"Okay, so here is what we do. Are you ready?" He nodded and was ready to hop in on any plan the little witch presented to him.

"You need to leave the Dark Lord's service," she said bluntly. He was about to cause a commotion, but she shut him down. "Now hear me out. If you are summoned again, you are signing a one-way ticket to the gates of hell. You will die and I will have to go back into hiding with the fate of the wizarding world once more in jeopardy. Before I was on the run, I had been researching how to deactivate the Dark Mark. Deactivating the mark will notify him that you are dead. You will not be able to be summoned and the locating charm will dissipate."

"How will we get inside information and kill the rest of the inner-circle Death Eaters if I am supposedly dead?"

"See, that is the one part that I am worried about," she admitted, chewing on her lip. At any other moment, this action would have distracted him, but he was currently consumed with the problem at hand. "If the Death Eaters are acting on the Dark Lord's orders, then your death will be a victory for him. If the Death Eaters are not acting on his orders and his invades their minds, he hopefully will assume you were killed by their actions. If that is the case, he could end up doing some of the work for us."

He wasn't convinced that was the case. He had been on the other side of his master's wand many times and knew he would rather inflict pain rather than outright kill. He told Hermione so.

"That may be. But we can still carry out our plans as planned. We catch them off guard during their missions and…." Hermione didn't finish her sentence, but he knew what was next. No matter how horrible the Death Eaters were, they were still outright murdering them. It didn't sit well in either of their stomachs, but he knew it was necessary to their survival and the redemption of the Wizarding World.

"We need to find another place to live, little witch. With my brother dead, and my death the property will be transferred to the closest living relative, Bellatrix. She will take control of the property as my brother's widow."

"If you're going anywhere, you are taking me with," the portrait behind the desk said, quiet up until this moment. They both laughed at the absurdity of the request. Florin Lestrange pouted. "You need me. I am the one who can see into the other ancestral home."

Rabastan and Hermione looked at each other, knowing what he said was true. If Rabastan was to be presumably dead, Florin was their only chance of knowing what was going on. With nowhere to go, Hermione suggested something that made his blood drain from his face. There was no way she could pull it off.

"You know what this means right? We need the Order of the Phoenix," she said with a smile, taking one last sip of whiskey before leaving the room. He ran after her, immediately afraid the Longbottom boy would come knocking on his door with pointed wand and a vengeful glee splashed across his face.

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 _I make aesthetics for each chapter. Follow me on tumblr at alexandraoalretha. I recently started a group called Harmony & Co. for those of you who ship Hermione and Harry together and are interested. _

_Feel free to leave a review. I would love to hear from you!_


	6. Chapter 6 — The Traitor

Hermione laughed as she ran out of the room. She knew it wouldn't hit Rabastan until she left what she was planning to do. Sure enough, she could hear his footsteps pounding after her on the wood floor and the image of him scuttling after her wide-eyed and worried made her giggle even more. He caught up to her and stopped her in her tracks by throwing her over his shoulders once more.

"You know, you really shouldn't make a habit of running away," he said, teasingly. He continued to walk down the hallway with her strung over his shoulder. This time, she didn't fling her arms and legs around, but came right back with a sassy retort.

"You know, you really shouldn't make a habit of throwing people over your shoulder," she said, almost mimicking him. He laughed and carried her into the room that they had shared the night before. She slid from his shoulder, landing soundly on the floor. She looked up into his eyes, neither moving away from each other. They were standing so close, almost touching. Scanning his face from his eyes to his lips to his jaw line, he seemed more and more attractive each time she looked at him. She could still feel the magic of the bond and despite telling herself to keep away, she wanted nothing more than to jump his bones right then and there.

She knew it was partly the magic of the wizarding bond and some of their now shared blood making her lust this way after him. Despite the bond, she wanted him. Before she could make a decision she might possibly regret, she backed away wanting to keep her promise to herself…for the time being.

"We need to talk about contacting the Order," Hermione said, taking a seat in front of the fireplace. He took a seat across from her.

"To be honest, I am hesitant about contacting the Order. I am a very well-known Death Eater, infamous for torturing the Longbottoms into insanity," he said, a pained look crossing his face. "We both know I was subject to the Imperius Curse, but how will they be able to put their trust in me." He paused. "I can barely put any trust into myself." He hung his head, his shaggy hair falling about his face and Hermione could tell he was hurting.

She crawled into his lap and wrapped her arms around his neck, hopefully comforting him. He buried his neck into her shoulder. They sat like that for a long time, neither speaking, just sitting.

"I trust you," she whispered. She thought she heard him return the sentiment, but didn't ask him to repeat himself. He was in a vulnerable state and she was lucky enough that he was confiding in her…even if it was so little. Eventually he leaned back into the chair and stared at the ceiling. Not wanting to disturb his thoughts, she laid her head on his shoulder, closed her eyes and let her mind rest.

Hermione awoke with a start, a little disoriented. She had just meant to rest her eyes, yet she had completely fallen asleep. She was situated awkwardly in Rabastan's arms in one of the armchairs by the fireplace. Their arms had become entangled and to her embarrassment, she had drooled on his shoulder. Looking up at him, she realized that he was already awake and was staring at her in amusement, the corners of his lips turning upwards into a smirk.

"You drooled on me," he said, jokingly accusing her.

"Hey!" she yelped, slapping his arm playfully. "It's rude to point it out."

He laughed and peeled her body off of his, setting her firmly on the ground. She stretched her legs languidly, trying to gain feeling in them after sleeping in an awkward position for several hours.

"I need to shower," she told him, heading towards the bathroom. She stopped at the door and looked back at him. "Also, could you get Milsey to move my clothes from my old room to this room?" She laughed at his lack of comprehension and then his sudden giddiness. When she returned back to the room after her shower and walked into the closet, all of her clothes were already there. He had wasted no time completely moving her into his room. She wasn't complaining of course, just mildly impressed how swiftly it had been accomplished. Dressing in her usual muggle attire of jeans and a tee, she went downstairs looking for Rabastan.

Finding him in the kitchen cooking, she realized he must have showered as well as his hair was still wet. Just as the day before, she was still mesmerized by how he moved around the kitchen. How he cooked looked so effortless, so unlike how she cooked. Just like in potions, she felt herself rigid, wanting the cooking to be absolutely perfect. It took the fun out of cooking really. Maybe eventually she would take up cooking extravagant meals, but for now, she didn't see the point. Before she could enjoy the simplicities of cooking, she needed to be free. The wizarding world needed to be free.

Shaking her head of dark thoughts, she turned her attention back to Rabastan who had just realized she was in the room. He began plating the meal, handing Hermione hers first and then walking around the island to join her.

After they finished their meal, they headed to the study to once again discuss the logistics of contacting the Order and deactivating Rabastan's Dark Mark. Hermione wanted to send her patronus to Neville to communicate, but to be honest, it made her a little uneasy and she knew it would unsettle Rabastan as well. A patronus charm had potential to be intercepted, although highly unlikely and she didn't want to think about what would happen after that. As for his dark mark, she wanted to take a closer look at it before she revisited her research from years before.

The firewhiskey was sitting on the table right where they had left it, uncorked sitting on the desk.

"Ahh, I was beginning to wonder if you might have left me," Florin's portrait said.

"Never," Rabastan replied, grabbing glasses from the cabinet, not giving the portrait another glance. Hermione moved her usual seat back to the other side of the desk and sat down. He slid a glass of firewhiskey across the desk to her and Hermione found herself barely catching it as it almost fell to the floor.

"You know," she said, pausing to take a sip of her drink. "I am beginning to think you have an alcohol problem."

He laughed. "Oh, I won't deny that, little witch. Being in the Dark Lord's service over the years, and my stint in Azkaban have exhausted this old man."

She frowned. "You're not old."

"Maybe not, but I feel like it." The conversation ended there. Neither of them wanted to dive down the rabbit hole of his experiences as a Death Eater at that moment.

"Okay, back to business," Hermione said, reeling them back in to the topic at hand. She had no idea why, but both of them had trouble staying on one subject for long periods of time. They hopped from one thing to the next, without hesitation.

"Let me see your arm," she commanded, walking around the desk towards him. He lifted up his left arm, pushing his long sleeve past his elbow, uncovering the black tattoo that made him a slave. She poked and prodded, whispering to herself, cataloging each aspect of the mark into her brain for safekeeping. She knew she possibly sounded crazy talking to herself, but verbally talking through knowledge had always helped her in school and she knew it wouldn't fail her now. Dropping his arm, she started pacing, her hand beneath her chin. Lost in thought, she jumped when a hand reached out grabbing her and pushing her into her chair.

"What'd you do that for?" she exclaimed, sighing in exasperation.

"You were pacing back and forth for at least ten minutes. It was making me anxious." Her face softened as he spoke. It had always made Harry's hair stand on end as well; he had threatened to tie her down once if she didn't stop.

"I'm sorry. I pace when I am deep in thought. Habit…" she said, shrugging her shoulders.

"Care to fill me in on what is running through your mind?"

Ignoring him, she burst out, "Ohmygosh, there is a library here right?" He nodded and she squealed in delight. "We have to go there now, Rabastan! A pureblood library like yours will have better texts than Hogwarts! I am almost positive it will have what I need to get rid of the mark on your arm." She grabbed his arm and pulled him to the door.

"Do you even know where you're going?" he asked her, laughing as she pulled him along. She stopped. "No, I don't. Lead the way," she said, pushing him gently forward. He was probably annoyed with her as she kept stepping on the backs of his feet in her hurry to visit the library. He must have gotten her subtle hint and sped up the pace until they reached the far end of the hallway on the first floor.

He opened the door and Hermione gasped. The library seemed to go on and on, expanding into eternity. It was at least as tall as the three floors of the manor, but she assumed it was magically charmed just like her beaded bag—an extension charm.

"Okay, so I am looking for a text called, _Modifying Charms and Spells: Volume I_ , if I remember correctly. I am unsure of the author, but I do know that was the title."

Hermione attempted to summon the book, but was unsuccessful. She looked at Rabastan in confusion, not sure why the summoning charm wasn't working.

"The library is rooted in the house's magic. Only a blood relative can remove books from the shelves. A summoning charm won't work for me either. I have to physically touch the book to remove it from its place."

"Okay, well how is this library organized? It will make it easier to find if we started looking in the correct places," she said, looking for signs similar to the Hogwarts library, but finding none.

"You won't find any signs saying what is where," he told her. "It is also meant to hide the secrets of the Lestranges. They are books in here that our ancestors wouldn't want dark wizard catchers coming across."

She huffed in exasperation. "Well, isn't there any way that you can get the book without us having to comb through thousands of books?"

"There is," he replied, making his way over to the nearest bookshelf. As soon as he touched the shelf, a book flew out and sailed into Rabastan's open hands. Walking over to him, she saw that it was indeed the book that she was looking for. It must have been up there for ages as it was covered in a thick layer of dust.

"How did you do that?"

"It's the Lestrange magic. Since we knew the title of the book, I could place my hand on the shelf and it knew exactly what I was looking for."

She reached for the book, but he pulled back from her. She frowned. "Why won't you give the book to me? Don't you want to deactivate your mark?"

"I do, but I am taking precautions. My family is known for being blood purists and looking down on others with a different blood status. This book could be cursed against muggleborns," he said, turning it over examining it. "In fact, don't touch anything in this room. It is a strong possibility that they warded everything against muggleborns. You could be seriously injured or even killed."

She nodded and dropped her hands to her side. How cruel for someone to do this to a library and its' books. If an auror had come to check for dark objects and they touched a book, they took the risk of becoming permanently disfigured or even worse, dead. She was more and more appalled each day by the horrible people currently ruling the wizarding world. The faster her and Rabastan could activate their plans, the better off they would be.

Rabastan turned the book over several times in his hands, checking for any physical alterations to the book. Finding none, he retrieved his wand from the back pocket of his trousers and began a series of tapping on the book, murmuring to himself.

He held the book out to her. "This one seems to be okay. But still don't touch any others without me looking it over first. When this blasted war is over, I can officially remove all the dark artifacts from this home. What a glorious day that will be." He gestured to the reading area nearby and she sat right next to him on the sofa, knowing he would want to see what exactly she was researching.

Blowing the dust off the top, she flipped open the book and immediately found what she was looking for. Listed inside full were instructions on how to modify the blocked barrier charm.

"The blocked barrier charm?" Rabastan asked, interrupting her thoughts. "Like the charm that seals magical barriers and portals?"

"Yes. When modified, it would obviously alter the effects of the spell, but what I am going to do is more than modify. I am going to combine the charm with protective spell and a masking spell. That should cover up any and all traces that you exist." She turned her attention back to the book and refreshed her memory from her previous research. Slamming the book closed, she reached for Rabastan's arm, once more to examine the tattoo on his forearm.

She traced the outline of the tattoo and was disturbed to feel the dark magic radiating off it. "Is it always like that?"

He didn't ask her to clarify, but seemed to already know what she was asking. She had never had that type of connection with another human before...like the ones on muggle television where they finished each other sentences. The only conclusion she could come to was that it was because of the wizard's vow they took the day before. She wanted to ponder on the possibilities, but needed to focus on the task at hand.

"Yes, I can always feel the dark magic emitting from the mark. Though, I touched Dolohov's arm once and his seemed to be worse."

Hermione frowned. "Why do you think that could be?" she asked him, already drawing her own conclusions.

"I am sure it is because I was under the Imperius Curse at the time and took the mark unwillingly. It probably didn't take to my body as well," he frowned and looked at his mark. "Come to think of it, I remember it bleeding black for several days. I almost thought the tattoo would disappear with how much ink was leaving my body."

"That is interesting." After knowing the few small details about his mark, Hermione was sure that the modification of the charm and combining it with two others would work. Pulling out her wand, she was ready to test it out.

"Ready?" He nodded and placed his right arm underneath his left, bracing it for what was to come.

She took a deep breath and pointed her wand at his forearm. Looking at Rabastan, he was schooling his features to an impassive face, but knew he was probably shaking with fear on the inside. She was terrified. Performing this spell correctly would be a huge victory for the both of them and would help move their plans in the right direction. If she should fail, Rabastan and her lives would be in danger, unable to escape.

Her hand shaking, her wand couldn't stay pointing at the mark. Rabastan grabbed her hand and kissed the top of it. "I trust you, Hermione Granger," he said, looking into her eyes with complete sincerity. "You can do this." She nodded, soaking in his words of encouragement. Taking a deep breath once more, she steadied her wand on his forearm.

"Claustra obturavit abscondam, claustra obturavit abscondam, claustra obturavit abscondam," Hermione chanted in Latin. She continued the string of words increasing the pace and steadied her voice into loud, clear tones.

A soft green glow encompassed Rabastan's forearm, slowing dissipating, signaling that the spell was completed.

"How does it feel?" Hermione asked.

"Odd…my arm is tingling," he said, lifting his arm closer to his eyes, examining his limb carefully. "It isn't radiating Dark Magic like it did before." He dropped his arm and smiled at her as she launched herself into his arms.

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 _Feel free to leave a review! xx_


	7. Chapter 7 — Impending Chaos

_I know I thanked my beta/alpha at the very beginning of this story, but I just wanted to give her another shoutout. So, HUGE thanks to RueDawn for everything she does — beta, alpha, brit picker. She's a rockstar!_

 _Without further ado, get ready for some Impending Chaos ;)_

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He was surprised as the young witch threw herself into his arms. He wrapped his arms around her, savoring the moment just in case it didn't happen again. Soon, she was shaking in his arms and pulling her away from him, he saw that her cheeks were tear streaked. He moved to wipe them away, cupping her face.

"What's wrong, little witch?" he asked, brushing his thumb continuously against her cheek.

"I-I-I. am. Just. So happy," she sputtered out, hiccupping in between each word. He smiled at her declaration. He too was happy with the result of the curse, but wasn't quite as overwhelmed as she was. She buried her face once more into his neck, her sobs finally ebbing away.

Eventually she sat up and looked at him in the eyes. Her eyes were red and puffy, her skin irritated from her tears. "Feel better, little witch?" he said, brushing her hair out of her face. She nodded and pulled herself out of his lap.

Before either of them could speak, they heard the load roar of the floo. Rabstan looked at Hermione and she was already in fighting mode. He knew fighting would be useless, so he pulled her to the corner of the library behind several bookshelves.

"Milsey," he whispered, calling for his most trusted elf. The elf appeared immediately, a look of fear on her features.

"Master…" she started, but Rabastan immediately interrupted her.

"Milsey, apparate upstairs quickly to our room. I need you to fetch our dark cloaks and Hermione's beaded bag," he rushed out.

Milsey nodded and was gone. Moments later she reappeared with their cloaks in one hand and Hermione's beaded bag. He grabbed the cloaks as Hermione wrapped the drawstring of the bag around her neck. They quickly put on their cloaks, putting up the hoods to hide their faces.

Milsey was still standing there and Rabastan was unsure what to do with the elf. If he was to leave her here, she would surely be killed or transferred in ownership to his horrid ex sister-in-law. "Milsey, I need you to leave. Hide. There are bad wizards in the home that are looking for me and will torture you until they find out."

The elf nodded her head in understanding, but looked heartbroken. "Milsey will go to her family in the mountains, Master."

"Go quickly," he said in low tones. "I will call you if I need you. I promise I won't leave you." The elf perked up at that and bowed to him. Milsey apparated away and his heart lurched. If something happened to her, he would never be able to forgive himself.

"Hermione, the wards haven't lifted. They will know that I am not actually dead," he whispered in her ear. "We need to get out of here."

The look on her face screamed HOW, but he had it taken care of. The house was equipped with several secret passages through the walls, one of them leading to the grounds outside the wards. Only a true Lestrange could find the entrances and exits. Hermione would be able to go through them as long as she was touching a part of him.

Taking her hand, he pulled open the nearby portrait leading her inside. Shutting the door behind them, he moved quickly sure to never drop her hand. He knew one of the first places they would check would be the study. As he reached the secret door to the study, he peeked through the hole and saw that Dolohov was in there looking distressed. Dolohov's actions confirmed their suspicions; this group were most definitely not working on Voldemort's orders. This was all planned by the Death Eaters and with him supposedly dead, they would be in trouble. Dolohov walked out the door, luckily not looking at the paperwork on the desk.

"He's gone. Let's move quickly," he whispered, opening the door. He ran in with his wand raised, needing to unstick his Uncle Florin from the wall. As he worked on the portrait, Hermione ran to the desk and frantically shoved all of the documents into the beaded bag around her neck. He got the portrait unstuck from the wall, casting a charm on the wallpaper to make it look like nothing was there to begin with. Handing the portrait to Hermione, it joined the rest of the paperwork. As a last second thought, he grabbed the corked firewhiskey from the desk. If they were going to be on the run, the whiskey would help.

He grabbed Hermione's hand once more, leading them back into the passage this time to the kitchens to the wine cellar passage that led outside. Rabastan peaked into the kitchen seeing no one, they ran into the cellar and made their way quickly through the small winding passage.

Reaching the grassy fields past the wards of the manor was a breath of fresh air, although looking down at the manor he felt a pang in his heart to be leaving his ancestral home once more. Not wanting to see how emotional leaving made him, he turned away from his home.

"Grab my arm," he said gruffly to Hermione, masking his emotions. She didn't hesitate and wrapped her arm around his forearm. Usually he acted fine under pressure, but at that moment his mind was blank. He didn't know where to apparate to that would be safe for them both. She must have known what he was thinking because almost immediately he felt the pull of apparition and they were standing in an old courtyard, facing several homes.

The wind was blowing hard in the courtyard, as leaves scattered across the ground. Winter was nearing and this was quite possibly the worst time to be on the run. Looking around, he didn't recognize where they were. "Where are we?"

"Not here," she whispered frantically. "Muggle London is near. Follow me." She led him to a café a few blocks over where they lowered their hoods and Hermione ordered them both cappuccinos. They sat in silence until their drinks arrived.

"Where are we?" he asked again.

"Muggle London," she responded vaguely, twirling the whipped cream around her drink.

He snorted in his coffee. "Thank you for that assessment," he whispered, keeping his voice low. "Why did you apparate us right in front of those homes?"

"The Order of the Phoenix."

"The Order of the Phoenix!" he shouted, unable to hold back his shout.

"Keep your voice down!" she whispered, loudly.

"Sorry. What do you mean The Order of the Phoenix?"

"The Black ancestral home was the headquarters for the Order of the Phoenix. I am assuming the wards were re-erected after Harry, Ron and I were caught there during our hunt for horcruxes," Hermione said, biting her lip. Usually this meant she was deep in thought. "There also must be a new secret keeper because I can no longer see the house."

"Can you contact someone that would be able to help us?"

She nodded. "Neville."

He paled at her response, but knew they had no other choice. They would completely be on their own if they didn't reach out for help. He knew the little witch across from him was strong enough to live life through boxes, but he wasn't sure that he was. Sure, he had survived being in the Dark Lord's presence, but facing the son of one of victims was more than he could handle. Looking across the table at Hermione, she was looking at him with empathy.

"I know this is hard—" she said before he interrupted her.

"Send your patronus," he whispered before he completely lost his nerve. She nodded and retrieved her wand from the pocket of her cloak. "Watch for the waitress. We don't want to be obliviating anyone today." He nodded.

She whispered the incantation to produce her patronus and a silver otter appeared seemingly floating in thin air. She whispered her message to it and it flew away, disappearing from view. He was mesmerized by the patronus. Unfortunately, he was never able to produce that type of magic. No doubt it was because of the dark magic that had radiated through his body.

"Is there any possibility that we can be tracked through your patronus?" he asked her, curious if they could be located through it.

She shook her head. "It's impossible, unless you tell your location to the person you sent it to." They sat silently drinking their cappuccinos, waiting for a return patronus or at least a sign that their message had been received.

They waited and waited. It had been at least ten minutes and Rabastan was losing patience. "How long is this going to take?" he growled at Hermione. "We can't just sit here, on the run, waiting for your friends to get it together."

"Yes we can. As far as they knew, I was dead. They are most likely determining whether my patronus is legit and if they should come to us."

Just as she said that, a figure walked into café, his face hidden by a cloak. Hermione must have recognized whoever it was because she smiled, but she was hesitant to get near the figure.

"Draw your wand," she whispered quickly to him. He had no idea what was happening, but he followed the little witch's orders. He sat there in silence as the figure moved towards their table. He then saw it was a male and he had his wand drawn as well.

"You know what to do Hermione. This is for both of our safety." the voice said. She nodded in agreement. "What organization did you attempt to start during our fourth year?" he asked her.

"S.P.E.W." she whispered. "The Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare." He breathed an audible sigh of relief and lowered his wand. Hermione kept hers drawn, so he did too.

"In first year, how did you secure Gryffindor's win for the house cup?" she asked him, her knuckles turning white from her tight grip on her wand.

"Dumbledore awarded me ten points for trying to prevent you, Harry and Ron from sneaking out of Gryffindor tower. I even threatened to fight you. I believe Dumbledore's exact words were, 'It takes a great deal of bravery to stand up to your enemies, but a great deal more to stand up to your friends'," he replied.

"Neville," she whispered, throwing herself into his arms. He watched the two friends reunite, but the lump in his throat didn't go away. He was nervous for what was to happen next. Longbottom definitely didn't trust him and that was going to be a problem. He hoped Hermione had a plan for how to get her friend on board.

Now, the two friends were whispering frantically to each other, Longbottom shooting him glances every so often. He knew they were talking about him and under the scrutiny, he couldn't help but squirm in his seat. He kept a tight grip on his wand, ready to defend himself should this go wrong.

"Neville, listen to me," she said, whispering in his ear, loud enough for Rabastan to hear. "He can be trusted. I promise. And he can help us. All this can be over and we can be free again. No more running." He watched as Longbottom gritted his teeth and finally nodded. It had taken very little convincing which surprised him, but maybe things were worse for the Order than they had both thought.

"Let's go," she said, grabbing his arm and pulling him out of the booth.

"Where are we going?" he asked, but she just shook her head. They walked quickly out of the café and back toward where they had apparated earlier. Hermione walked quickly, trying to keep up with Neville, her hair bouncing on her shoulders.

Before long, they were back in the courtyard they had appeared in earlier. The Longbottom boy handed Hermione a small piece of paper and she seemed to be memorizing it before handing it to him. She passed it over and it said:

 _12 Grimmauld Place is the headquarters for The Order of the Phoenix_

"Memorize it. Quickly," she whispered. He read a few more times and handed it back. She took out her wand and incinerated the piece of paper, the blacked pieces falling to the ground.

He looked up and he had to stifle his gasp, the townhomes in front of them were moving apart to make room for another townhome pushing its way in. He looked at Hermione, but she shook her head once more. His questions would have to wait until they were inside.

They followed Longbottom up toward the steps and they walked into the interior of the home. He shut the door behind him and looked around curiously. It was dark and dreary inside the home, ugly green wallpaper covering the walls.

"Hermione…" he started, before she cut him off.

"Not here," she whispered, grabbing his hand. She pulled him down the hallway quickly and into the room at the end of the hall. She leaned against the door, shutting it quietly. She sunk against the wall and he took in the surroundings.

They were now in the kitchen and it was just a little less dreary than the hallway. It was lighted better, that's for sure. He was surprised, but it was only the three of them in the kitchen. Hermione must have thought the same thing.

"Where is everyone Neville?"

"Well there aren't many of us left, but most of them are out right now collecting supplies. We might not have been on the run like you Hermione, but it hasn't been a picnic either."

She nodded and he swallowed, still nervous for what was to come. He knew the elephant in the room needed to be addressed sooner than later, but as a Slytherin, he wasn't known for his bravery.

"Neville, I assume you have some questions. About the both of us," she said, taking a seat at the kitchen table. Rabastan took the seat next to her just in case he needed some moral support. Her supportive hand always seemed to calm him down.

Instead of sitting down across from them, Longbottom continued to pace across the floor. They were all silent for several minutes until he stopped and stood in front of them. Rabastan could see Longbottom's eyes moving from Hermione to him, back to Hermione.

"How did this happen?" he asked, pointing to the both of them.

"Well…" Hermione started, but Rabastan cut her off.

"I'll tell the story," he told her, wringing his hands together. Like he had hoped, Hermione grabbed his hand in support and gave him a brief smile. He took a deep breath and started the long tale. He told him about how he was imperiused by his brother, how he was forced to commit crimes under the curse, including the torture of Longbottom's parents. He talked about how he knew Hermione was still alive and sent a note to her. He recounted his plan for taking down the Dark Lord and how Hermione had deactivated his Dark Mark. He told him everything, right up until the moment they were in.

He looked at Hermione and then to Longbottom. He could see the turmoil behind his eyes. He could never imagine what was going through his head. Finally he addressed Hermione.

"You trust him?" he asked her.

She nodded her head. "I do."

"Then I trust you too," he said, holding out his hand to Rabastan. He took it immediately, not wanting to miss his chance with making amends.

"I am sorry, Longbottom," Rabastan said. "For your parents." The boy nodded his head in his way of saying thank you.

"We will talk later. Around dinner everyone should be back inside headquarters. We can let everyone know of your plan and see what we can do to help," he said turning toward the door. Before he left he turned back. "I am assuming you need somewhere to stay."

They both nodded. "The first room on the left on the second floor is empty. It's the only one left." With that being said, he left the room and he was alone with Hermione.

He let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. The conversation went way better that he had expected.

"Let's go upstairs," Hermione suggested. She got up from the table and he followed her. Before they left the kitchen, Hermione turned toward him. "And for God's sake, don't speak in the hallways. You'll regret it."

He had no idea why everyone was required to be silent in the hallways, but he decided he didn't want to find out why. When they got back to the room, he would ask Hermione. They trudged up the stairs quietly and reached the first room and the second floor. Walking in, it was decorated nicely, but seriously outdated. Although, he shouldn't complain. He would much rather be here than running around on the streets, sleeping in boxes and shady hotels.

As he shut the door, he asked Hermione, "Why can't we speak in the hallways?" He assumed it was a wizarding home, and probably had curious things hidden, but what was the big deal.

"Walburga Black's portrait is in the hallway," she said, collapsing onto the bed. He watched as she laid down, her feet still barely touching the ground.

"Interesting," he said, leaving the conversation at that. So this was the ancestral home of the Black's he thought. It made all the more sense as he walked around the room. The entry way had been dark and decorated in green. This room seemed different, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it.

A picture on the wall answered his question. There were four friends with their arms over each other, laughing all wearing Gryffindor scarves. He assumed one was Sirius Black as this was his family's home. The next photo he recognized several of the faces; many of them having been ones he had seen briefly in battle. It was scary to see that most of them were children, still Hogwarts age. Looking to the left of the photo, he spotted the witch currently laying on the bed. Non smiling in the photo and her wand held at her side, she radiated fierceness.

"Dumbledore's Army," he heard her say from the bed. He turned to look at her and she had propped her head up on her hand.

"I've heard you mention that group before. What exactly was Dumbledore's Army?"

She looked at him questioningly, almost daring him to say he was kidding. He just stared at her waiting for her to respond. He kept racking his brain to see if he had heard of them before and he was drawing a blank. Most likely he had heard it before from others who were not Hermione, but the curse he was under during his time as a Death Eater made a lot of things fuzzy.

"Dumbledore's Army was a defense group started in my fifth year led by Harry. That was the year that Umbridge was our Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. She felt that reading a textbook without practical experience would help us pass our O. . That combined with the fact that no one believed You-Know-Who had returned, we needed to prepare ourselves," she explained.

"Who is left from Dumbledore's Army?" he asked, moving to sit next to Hermione on the bed.

"I-I-I don't know," she said, her voice breathy. He could tell she was trying not to let her emotions get the best of her. "Just Neville that I know of so far," she finished.

The tears falling, he let her fall into his arms, sobs racking her body for the second time that day. His life had been wretched, but he couldn't imagine what this little witch had been through. Growing up during the Second Wizarding World and being best friends with Harry Potter, she had no choice but to grow up quickly. Essentially, her and all the other Hogwarts students had been and still were child soldiers. They might be older in age, but they had all lost several years of their lives to war.

He held her until the sobs stopped and only sniffles remained. She sat up, he with her. She was red in the face, but otherwise looked quite put together.

"It's almost time for dinner. You might want to freshen up," he told her, pointing to the door leading to the bathroom. She got up from the bed and shut the door behind her. Sitting in silence once more, Rabastan tried to calm his mind as his thoughts starting running wild, no clear order on how they appeared.

The little witch appeared back in the room after several minutes. She made her way over to the door and turned back to him, beckoning him over. He was beside her in moments, grabbing her hand and brushing it against his lips.

"Ready?" She nodded and they made their way down to the kitchen, ready for whatever chaos awaited them.

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 _Feel free to leave a review xx_


	8. Chapter 8 — Reunited

_A/N: What? What? Did someone say smut? Finally! Hope you enjoy!_

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Hermione was nervous. Not only for herself, but for Rabastan. She knew it was difficult for Neville to accept Rabastan, especially since he had gone his entire life wanting revenge on the monsters who tortured his parents. To be completely honest, she was terrified to walk into that kitchen. She was scared about who she would see sitting around the table and more afraid of who she wouldn't.

They both stopped right outside the kitchen, their hands still linked, and looked each other. Hermione took a deep breath and pushed open the door. All the faces inside the room stared back at her. She scanned their faces, hoping to see someone she deeply missed.

"Hermione!" a voice screamed, as a body hurtled into hers. Long, red hair cascaded over her eyes and she knew it was Ginny she currently had her arms around.

"Ginny!" she cried, succumbing to tears for the third time that day. Over the last three years she had no idea who was dead and who was still alive, except for Neville. After what seemed like a lifetime, she broke away from the girl's embrace. She saw that her face was red and tear-streaked as well, a testament to how much they had missed and needed each other.

She reached up and wiped her own tears away and Ginny did the same. They smiled at each other, silently agreeing there would be a lot of catching up to do in the near future. Luna came up to her first, and Hermione couldn't believe how much she had missed the blonde.

Seamus and Dean, George and Angelina, and even Parvati came up and hugged Hermione as well. She hadn't been as close to all of them, but she was still happy to see them nonetheless. Justin Finch-Fletchley and Hannah Abbott followed. They all eyed Rabastan with contempt, but kept their mouths shut. She assumed that Neville had briefly mentioned their situation and was waiting for the opportune moment to explain fully.

Hermione continued to scan the room, seeing faces she recognized, but hadn't necessarily missed. Rabastan kept close by, attempting not to draw attention to himself. She hated to break it to him, but all eyes were on them and they probably would be for several days.

She frowned when she didn't see any of her other friends from school. She looked at Ginny in desperation with the question stuck in her throat.

Ginny shook her head. "He's gone," she whispered, more tears falling from her face. Hermione wanted to break down in sobs, but after crying so much throughout the day, she didn't have much left in her. Instead she found herself leaning into Rabastan for support. She felt him grab her around the waist, keeping her upright. She was grateful. She surely would have fallen to the floor in despair had he not caught her. Ron…he was gone.

"When? How?" she sobbed.

"He was sent on a mission weeks ago and was caught stealing intel on the Death Eaters from inside the Ministry. He never came back. We assumed the worst and our fears were confirmed when we saw it was reported in The Daily Prophet. They-They…" Ginny trailed off, unable to tell Hermione what had happened. Maybe it was for the best. Her stomach felt sick at the moment and she didn't think her emotions or her stomach could handle the full story.

Rabastan tightened his grip on her and she wrapped her right arm around his waist. "Let's sit down," he whispered in her ear. She nodded as he led her to an open chair at the table. She collapsed in the chair, Rabastan never letting go of her completely. She leaned into his comforting embrace ignoring the surprised looks around the table. No one spoke for a long time. Dinner was served and Hermione just moved her food around her plate, unable to force herself to eat. Finally, she gave up and pushed the plate away. Looking around the rest of the table she noticed everyone was finishing up eating. 'It's now, or never,' she thought to herself.

"Ahem," she said, clearing her throat. Everyone looked at her and silence moved across the room. "I know you all have questions, so…" she trailed off, gesturing to the people around her. Leaning back into her chair, she grasped Rabastan's hand and waited for the chaos.

It never came.

Hermione furrowed her brow in confusion. She opened her mouth several times, but never found the right words and so kept silent. Looking at Rabastan Hermione noticed he looked confused too. She had expected everyone to jump at the chance to ask their questions or accuse her and Rabastan of playing the sides. She had never expected the silence that greeted them.

"Hermione," Justin drawled finally. "We trust you. We never stopped trusting you. Neville told us some of your story and if you trust him, we do too." The heads around the table nodded in agreement.

"We need you, Hermione. And if that means putting aside my grudges and accepting help from someone I have hated my whole life, I will do it," Neville added.

Tears threatened to fall again. "Thank you," she whispered. She looked at Rabastan and she could tell he was on the verge of showing his emotions as well.

"Maybe we will go over plans tomorrow?" she suggested, moving toward the door of the kitchen. Heads nodded in agreement.

"See you in the morning, Hermione," Neville said, giving her a hug and a kiss on the forehead. "Rabastan," he said, holding out his hand. She smiled to herself. She was glad that Neville was putting aside what he had believed to be true and trusting her.

They moved up the stairs silently, not wanting to wake the horrible portrait of Walburga Black. As Hermione closed the door, she sank against it breathing a sigh in relief.

"Well, that went better than expected," Rabastan quipped. "I was expecting a full-fledged war to start." She giggled. "Me too."

She walked over to him and wrapped her arms around his middle. She felt his strong arms encompass her and she hummed. Losing track of time, she had no idea how long they stood there. Before her mind could overthink everything, she jumped into his arms wrapping her legs around his waist. She latched her lips onto his, tasting and exploring. She couldn't even describe the feeling. It was as if her magic was purring in approval.

He seemed surprised at first to have a beautiful witch launch herself into his arms, but he reciprocated immediately. He wrapped his arms around her petite frame, returning her enthusiastic kisses. Before they both fell over, he carried her over to the bed and laid her gently at the edge, careful to not break contact. He crawled on top of her, planting kisses along her neck and jaw. She moaned in approval, bucking her hips into him.

Hearing him laugh, she looked up at him in confusion with a slight blush crawling up her neck and cheeks. 'Is he laughing at me?' she asked herself. Before she could think on it further, Rabastan started talking to her.

"Are you sure about this little witch?" She nodded sitting up, forcing Rabastan to roll onto his back as she did, and peeled her shirt over her head. She heard his breath catch in his throat at the sight and grinned at the unsaid compliment. Seeing his cock still restrained inside his jeans, she grabbed his hands, pulled him close and made quick work of the zipper, pulling his pants down, his boxers following.

He hissed in pleasure as she gripped his erection with a firm hand. She brushed her hand over the tip, spreading the precum over his length. He laid fully on his back, allowing her to take control. She was grateful that he was letting her take control of the pace.

At first, she was nervous. Being on the run with Harry and Ron for over a year, she caught glimpses of them, but never saw them fully. Now, in front of her was an almost fully naked man groaning in pleasure from her ministrations. It made her feel powerful. Before she could lose her courage, she bent down and tasted the precum that continued to flow out of the tip. It tasted salty, but not unpleasant. Keeping her hands moving at the base, she lowered her mouth onto his length, caressing it with her tongue. Bobbing up and down, she took his full length into her mouth. Luckily, she never had a gag reflex as he hit the back of her throat. She could tell that he was trying not to thrust into her mouth and for that, she was grateful.

"That's enough, little witch," he said, pulling her up to him. He pressed his lips to hers and darted his tongue out to lick her lips. For a moment, she thought it was odd that he was tasting himself, but she let that go. To be honest, it sent a shiver of arousal down her spine to see him taste himself on her lips. While he distracted her with his lips, she felt his fingers tickle their way to her back, unhooking her bra. He slid the bra down her arms, tossing it into the corner where it lay forgotten. Kissing his way down her body, he ended up at her navel and hurriedly unbuckled her jeans and pushed them down. Left in her knickers, Hermione watched as Rabastan started licking his lips in anticipation as he stared at her. She squirmed underneath his gaze, nearly embarrassed at being almost fully naked in front of him.

"Don't be embarrassed, little witch," he said, pulling her panties down her legs. "So beautiful," he groaned and immediately dived into her center with his mouth. She was horrified for a millisecond, before all coherent thought left her as pleasure took over.

"Ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod," Hermione shouted as she came almost immediately, her orgasm crushing around her in waves. She thought she had never felt such pleasure, but she was wrong as Rabastan thrust into her quickly. At the breaking of her barrier, she winced, but he glided in smoothly due to her wetness. He stopped after he was fully sheathed inside her, allowing her to adjust to the feeling of being full.

"Take this off," she whispered in his ear, pulling on his shirt. Still inside her, he wasted no time pulling off his shirt.

"Are you okay?" he asked, brushing light kisses over her neck and chest. She nodded and he slowly started moving inside her, taking his time. He worshipped her body, placing kisses on each inch of skin, paying special attention to her chest. Before long, she was meeting him thrust for thrust, digging her fingernails into his lower back.

"Faster, 'Bastan," she whimpered, as she felt her insides clench. She could tell he was close and so was she. He picked up the pace, thrusting into her at an almost unbearable pace. Close to bursting, he lifted his thumb to her clit, wanting to come inside her as she orgasmed. His little witch screamed in pleasure and clamped down onto his length. With one last thrust, he shot his seed deep inside her, prolonging her orgasm.

Hermione was breathing hard as Rabastan hovered over her, catching his own breath. Feeling as if she was on an orgasmic high, she finally opened her eyes. He had a goofy smile on his face and was still placing kisses across her neck and chest. She loved that he had yet to pull out of her; loving the feeling of him being inside. Now that she had given in to sex, she was afraid she might be insatiable. A potential problem in a house full of people. She had a feeling they would be spending a lot of time shut up in their room.

She pulled him close, pushing her tongue into his mouth, ready to go again. He groaned and pulled himself out of her and laid himself next to her on the bed. He drew patterns on her stomach, tickling her. She kissed him again, knotting her fingers in his hair. He broke away from her and laid his head on her breast.

"I need to rest, little witch," he said laughing.

"Old man," she teased him, grabbing his cock.

"I'll show you old man," he retaliated, jumping on her attacking her mouth. They spent the rest of the night exploring each other's' bodies realizing later on that they had forgotten to cast a silencing charm. Most likely, the entire house heard them, but for some reason Hermione couldn't care less.

With her leg wrapped around his waist and her hand planted on his chest, she began to drift off to sleep.

"Good night Hermione," she heard Rabastan whisper.

"Good night 'Bastan" she mumbled back, quickly falling to sleep.

Hermione woke the next morning cuddled next to Rabastan. She moved closer, snuggling her face into his shoulder. He wrapped his arm around her tighter and she smiled. It was warm in his embrace—she felt safe. She teetered on drifting back to sleep and staying awake; that in between where one is neither asleep nor awake. She told herself to wake up, or regret it later when she had a headache.

Groaning and stretching her limbs, she sat up. She knew Rabastan was awake too, but was pretending to stay asleep. Pulling the pillow off of him, the sunlight streamed across his face.

"Ugh, little witch. What are you doing?" he said, blindly groping for the pillow. She hit him in the stomach with the pillow.

"You wound me," he said sarcastically, finally opening his eyes to look at her. "Come here." He pulled her to him, kissing her long and deep. She straddled him and moaned at the feeling of their sexes rubbing against each other.

A knock sounded at the door breaking them apart, both out of breath. "What is it?" she called.

"We are meeting in ten," Neville's voice boomed through the door. "Okay," she called back.

Turning back to Rabastan, she gave him one last kiss and pulled away. She needed to wash off the sins of the night before she faced the rest of the Order. Although, the whole house most likely knew what they had been doing. A silencing charm had been the last thing on their minds when ravaging each other's' mouths and bodies.

Stepping underneath the hot cascading water, Hermione felt relaxed. Sore, but relaxed. Oblivious to the outside world, she missed the sound of the shower door opening and closing. She gasped when a strong arm encompassed her middle as she felt a hot breath on her neck.

"Rabastan," she whispered, throwing her head back resting it on his chest. He continued placing kisses down her throat as his fingers slid down between her legs, teasing her clit.

"Rabastan," she gasped. "The meeting…" She trailed off unable to finish the sentence as he gently stroked her clit.

"Fu—ck the meeting," he said, drawing out the curse word. "We'll be quick." He removed his hand from her clit and found his way to her center, slowly pushing his fingers in. Hermione couldn't contain her groan. The feel of his fingers against her walls felt amazing. She whimpered when he withdrew his fingers, but she didn't have to wait long before he pushed her up against the shower wall and thrust into her quickly. Bending almost in half, Hermione braced her arms against the wall, pushing back as he thrust in.

She could barely hear his ragged breathing over her own whimpers. He must have been close and his fingers found his way to her clit once again hoping to quickly bring her off. Moments later, she screamed as her orgasm gushed over her in waves. Rabastan stilled inside her, filling her with his come making her moan even more.

Her body shaking, she was unsure if she could trust herself to remove her hands from the wall. Rabastan took care of that. He washed her hair quickly as she leaned against the wall still basking in the glory of another orgasm. How she had gone all these years without orgasming from a man's hands and cock was beyond her. Her fingers could never compare.

Rabastan finished washing her hair and quickly washed his own. They hurried into the bedroom, sliding on the clothes she had hidden in her beaded bag before their departure from Lestrange Manor. Walking down the halls, they trod as quietly as possible so they had no possibility of waking up Walburga Black. They walked into the kitchen just as Neville was finishing up a sentence.

"Nice of you to join us, Hermione…Lestrange," Neville said, a smile playing on his lips. Hermione gave him a bright smile and was happy that he wasn't upset that they were a few minutes late. They took the two seats that were left and turned their attention once more to Neville.

"Now, I was just mentioning that Hermione and Lestrange had a plan," he said, looking straight at her. "Would you like to share?" She looked at Rabastan and he nodded. She stood up and looked at the people she had once called her peers, but were now her fellow soldiers in a war they never asked to be in.

Hermione covered all aspects of the original plan, even how she and Rabstan had already accomplished one murder on their list of assassinations.

"Like I said, our main goal is to assassinate those who are closest to the Dark Lord. Once they are gone from the scene, we can then focus our efforts of the snake himself. Those left in his inner circle are Bellatrix Lestrange, Lucius Malfoy, Antonin Dolohov, Thorfinn Rowle, Amycus and Alecto Carrow and Andrew Rosier," she said, at last. Looking at Neville, he nodded urging her to continue.

Before she continued the story, she thought if Rabastan would be mad that she had now altered the plan to include the rest of the story. 'Surely not,' she told herself. 'That is why we are here.' Deciding to inform the others of her newly calculated plan, she would ask for forgiveness later if needed.

"The original plan was that Rabastan was going to feed inside inner circle information to us and we would use that information to catch the Death Eaters off guard. Now that I have deactivated his mark, we are no longer at liberty to receive that inside information. We will need to work together for this to work." The heads around the table were nodding, excitement crossing their faces. Like Hermione, they had been barely surviving over the past three years and with a plan in motion, everything could change for the better.

"My plan is that we split up into groups of two as there are exactly fourteen of us. That will leave one Death Eater for each group to take care of. You will need to watch them, follow them, learn their habits…learn everything about them. When the right moment comes you strike and you cover up your tracks in case our plan falls through in any way," she finally finished.

"Any questions?" she heard Neville ask. Around the table, heads shook no simultaneously. Hermione grinned. This was going better than expected and she couldn't be happier. Part of her giddiness was probably from the last twelve hours spent with Rabastan, but finally being to execute a well thought out plan was close to the top of the list.

"Good," Neville said, standing from his seat. "Now let's pair off. Hermione and Rabastan, you've already been working together so you'll be paired." Hermione shook her head in agreement.

"We want Dolohov," Rabastan rasped. Hermione gulped hearing him claim the man who had cursed her so many years ago. "Fine," Neville agreed. He moved on with pairing other Order members together.

"Hannah, you'll be with me and we will be taking Bellatrix Lestrange. Ginny and Justin, you'll take Lucius Malfoy," Neville continued. Hermione watched as Ginny's face drained of color, but her determination never faltered. Ginny and Neville both had some revenge to enact — Lucius for the horcrux diary that possessed Ginny and Bellatrix for the torture of Neville's parents.

"Seamus and Dean, I want you taking down Thorfinn Rowle. George and Angelina, you'll be tailing Amycus Carrow. Luna and Terry, you'll be tailing his sister, Alecto," he said, dishing out the assignments like he had done it a hundred times before.

"What about us?" Lee Jordan piped up, gesturing to himself and Parvati. "You'll be going after Andrew Rosier." Lee frowned and Hermione didn't doubt it was because Rosier was one of the lesser known Death Eaters. Chatter filled the room as the pairs made their plans, giddy to get started on their missions.

"They don't know where to start, bring them over here," Rabastan whispered in her ear. Hermione reached over for Parvati's hand and pulled her close, Lee followed behind.

"What do you know about Rosier?" Rabstan asked the pair. They both shook their heads.

"Nothing," Parvati said. "We know things about the others, but Rosier isn't as well known." Lee nodded in agreement.

"Is that why you pulled us over here?" Lee asked. "Can you help us?"

Rabastan nodded. "I can. Now, listen carefully. You don't know a lot about Rosier because that is how the Dark Lord likes it. Rosier is his secret weapon, only out and about to commit the most heinous of crimes."

Hermione watched as both Parvati and Lee visibly gulped. They were up for a challenge, but they were both strong duelists and she knew if anyone was up for it, it was them.

"He sticks very close to the Dark Lord, so I recommend being very careful. He is at his side each day from sun up to sun down, and leaves briefly in the night to go to his home." Rabastan reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a piece of paper.

"The Dark Lord's current headquarters, one of my family's ancestral homes, is protected under an advanced fidelius charm. Here is the address," he said, handing Parvati the paper. "You will both need to memorize this. Watch Rosier and follow him when he leaves. He uses the floo as it is the only way to access his home. Do you have any questions?"

"No. Thank you," Lee said, holding his hand out to Rabastan. He returned the handshake, Hermione was surprised at how willingly everyone had accepted him into their ranks. Parvati clutched Hermione, giving her a hug which was equally surprising…they had never gotten along well in school with Hermione focused on books and Parvati on boys. Her only reasoning was that war changes people and they were both different people now than they were during their Hogwarts' years.

"Alright everyone!" Neville shouted over the chatter. "Break up and start planning your courses of action." Everyone started toward the door, quietly whispering to their partners. They turned back to face Neville when they heard his voice again. "Please be careful." He begged.

Hermione and Rabastan left the room, planning to venture outdoors later that day in hopes of catching the bastard that left her scarred for life.

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	9. Chapter 9 — The Watch

_A/N: Thank you all for being so patient! My muse decided to take a vacation with this story, but hopefully she is back for good! I hope you enjoy xx_

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Hermione led Rabastan into the drawing room instead of trekking back up the stairs to their room. They sat down on the couch, silently. Hermione needed to tell Rabastan why she feared Dolohov so much. Even after all of these years, her nightmares included him waving his wand in a slashing manner, his voice silenced from her charm. Madame Pomfrey and Professor Dumbledore had told her she was lucky to be alive. If he hadn't been silenced, his self-invented curse was known to immediately kill the victim.

"Rabastan…" she started, but he cut her off.

"You don't need to tell me anything you don't want to, little witch."

"I know. It's just…I want to. I feel that you should know."

She watched as he settled back against the couch and she leaned into him, curling her legs up behind her. Knowing she would need comfort while telling this story, she laid her head down on his shoulder. He tightened his grip around her waist and she relaxed into his embrace.

"I told you about Dumbledore's Army, remember?" She felt him nod. "Well, that was the same year that You-Know-Who realized he had a mind connection with Harry. Harry could see into his mind and vice-versa. By the end of the year, he started planting false visions into his head. Harry was convinced that Sirius was in the Department of Mysteries and needed help," she paused. "Does any of this sound familiar to you?

"No. But to be honest, I think I was there. The memories from my time under the Imperius Curse will most likely always be blurry."

She nodded understanding the use of the unforgivables and dark magic on a person for long periods of times had disastrous consequences. She thought she remembered seeing him briefly during the battle, but it all happened so quickly she was just as unsure as he was.

"Once we got to the Department of Mysteries, it was clear that Sirius wasn't there. You-Know-Who had lured Harry there to collect the prophecy that was made about them. There was several of us who went with him and ended up having to fight off the other Death Eaters — me, Harry, Ron, Neville, Ginny, and Luna," she said, pausing and taking a deep breath.

"We were chased into the time chamber and I silenced Dolohov so he wouldn't alert the other Death Eaters to our location. Still silenced, I watched as he cast a curse by slashing his wand through the air, a purple flame striking me across the torso. I don't remember anything after that. I woke up in the hospital days later." Retelling the story had Hermione breathing deeply and on the verge of an anxiety attack.

Rabastan just held her closer, offering comfort as she calmed herself down. She ran her fingers across her torso, tracing the scar over the top of her clothing.

"They told me I was lucky to be alive. Had he not been silenced, I would have died from the dark magic the curse inflicted. Instead I walked away with almost a constant throbbing in my ribs and this purple scar as a reminder."

Looking at Rabastan, Hermione noticed his brow was furrowed like he was trying to recall something he had once forgotten. She placed her hand on his forearm and he snapped out of his thoughts.

"What is it?" she asked, frowning.

"I remember Dolohov being weirdly obsessed with you. After the Battle of Hogwarts when I was no longer under the Imperius Curse, he kept raving about how you got away. He had some odd kink about you. I didn't realize until now why he had been completely enamored with you," he said, lifting her shirt up. He ran his fingers over the parts of the scar that were uncovered. "I never realized this was from him."

"Why did you choose to go after him rather than the others?" she whispered.

"Because he is the most dangerous…I couldn't allow the others to go out there knowing he could kill them in an instant. Sure, the others are dangerous, but he is much, much worse," he admitted, "Plus, now you have told me about your past encounters with him, I know you want revenge, little witch."

She swallowed, her throat dry. He was right. She did want revenge on the man who had scarred her for the rest of her days. But she was terrified. If Dolohov was that obsessed with her, no one could tell what he would do to get her.

"Don't worry little witch. I won't let any harm come to you. The Wizard's Oath, remember?"

"I remember," she said, smiling at the wizard next to her. He really was sweet. They hadn't known each other for very long and he was willing to protect her at all costs. Maybe after this was all over and he was cleared of his charges, they could really make something of the relationship that was currently blooming.

"Well, now I know we both have our reasons for wanting Dolohov dead... Do you have a plan for that?"

"You know me so well," she said laughing, pushing the incident with Dolohov far from her mind.

"I do have a plan, but I thought you might have more ideas since you know him better from working so closely together."

"Well, he's Russian, but he does have a flat in Wizarding London. The Dark Lord sends him on international missions quite often to Russia because he knows the language and the people better than anyone."

"Before we deactivated your mark, do you know where he was? We should probably start there." Hermione internally was praying that he wasn't in Russia. It would be difficult to travel internationally as they legally could not obtain a portkey and apparition over long distances was dangerous.

"He had just returned from a mission in Russia," Rabastan said. Hermione breathed a sigh of relief. "Most likely he wasn't sent back to Russia so quickly, so he's probably roaming around London doing the Dark Lord's bidding."

"Do you know where his flat is?" Hermione asked.

"I do. Looks like that's our first stop, eh little witch?" Hermione laughed at his poor attempt at a Scottish accent.

"Nice try. When this is all over, you probably shouldn't try to pick up an impressionist job."

"What?"

"Nevermind," Hermione mumbled. "Muggle thing." Rabastan still was looking at her like she was a little crazy, so she changed the subject quickly wanting to get back to the task at hand.

"Shall we head back up to the room and then head out?" she asked him. He nodded and they headed upstairs to bundle up to venture out into the cold winter afternoon.

Ten minutes later, Hermione and Rabastan were huddled together across the street from Dolohov's flat.

"Jesus, why is it so cold?" Hermione complained, rubbing her gloved covered hands together.

"Well, it is winter," Rabastan replied, sarcastically.

"What an astute observation," she retorted. He ignored her response, so she remained silent focusing her attention on the building they were watching.

"Will he even come out this way?" she finally asked. "Why wouldn't he floo or apparate directly out of his flat?"

"Since it's a wizarding residence, apparating in and out is prohibited. Most of the time he probably isn't somewhere he can access the floo," Rabastan explained to her, shrugging his shoulders. "They have to make it past the door man before they can apparate."

"He should be coming back anytime now," he added, casting a tempus checking the time. Scanning the streets, Hermione spotted him and Rabastan did too.

"There's the bastard," he whispered.

"We aren't allowed into the building, though. How are we supposed to get ahold of him?"

"Let's just watch for today. Tomorrow we can arrive early and catch him by surprise before he apparates to the Dark Lord."

Hermione nodded, agreeing the plan. "We should scheme tonight about what to do with the door man."

"Nothing a quick confundus or memory charm can't fix."

"We still should think of alternatives. I've learned the hard way about what happens when a plan goes haywire and you don't have a backup."

He didn't argue. They stood across the street hidden under the cover of the brush until dark. Once night came, and it was clear that Antonin wasn't leaving the comfort of his flat for the night, they apparated back to Grimmauld Place and sat by the fire, attempting to breathe life back into their frozen fingertips.

Dinner was a silent affair. Hermione and Rabastan were one of the few pairs that had made it back in time. It made her nervous, but she had to trust everyone knew what they were doing and focus on her and Rabastan's task.

Hermione left Rabastan in the kitchen to finish eating, and she made her way up to the room where she collapsed on the bed. They hadn't gotten anything accomplished today except confirming Rabastan was correct in knowing where Dolohov lived.

As she laid there, she let her thoughts drift toward Rabastan and how their relationship had progressed. She liked him, but was her infatuation with him increased only because of the wizarding oath they had taken? Or were her feelings genuine? She had no answer to her questions and the only way to figure it out was to wait until the wizarding vow was complete. Their shared magic that coursed through their veins would then dissipate, allowing her to analyze her feelings without influence.

Rabastan startled her from her thoughts as he slid silently into the room, only noticing him once the bed dipped from his weight.

"Little witch," he said grinning, pressing his lips to hers. Her hands went up to caress his face and pull him in deeper. Hermione snogged him until she had to come up for breath. She laughed as she saw her reflection in the mirror across from the bed. Her hair was wild and her lips already swollen from his kisses.

"As much as I would like to continue, we need a game plan for tomorrow," she said, placing one last kiss on his lips.

"You're right, of course."

"Ideally, I would love to watch him for several more days to memorize his routine. I know you say he comes and goes at around the same time each day, but I think we need to check to be sure."

"If you think that is the right thing to do. I am ready to murder the bastard on the spot, but I know it is better to be prepared. If you think we should wait a few days, weeks, months even, I will agree with you," Rabastan told her.

She smiled at the wizard in front of her. It was hard to believe they had only known each other for a matter of days. Everything had moved so quickly since Hermione received his letter just days ago.

"Thank you," she whispered, pressing her forehead against his.

"What for, little witch?"

"Everything. For reaching out to me. For allowing me to be a part of your plan. Just everything." She shrugged not wanting to get too deep, but wanting him to know she was grateful for everything he had done for her.

Hermione climbed into Rabastan's lap, her head resting against his, just allowing her mind to relax until he suggested they go to bed. She got up, stretched and nodded in agreement. They had a long few days at least and if they couldn't accomplish their mission quicker, they possibly could be at this for weeks, even months.

"Let's go," he said, holding out his hand. She grabbed it without hesitation and they made their way up to the second floor and to bed.

* * *

They ended up watching Dolohov for weeks. He never seemed to come home at the same time each day and it was putting a kink in their plans. Not to mention, the weather had been temperamental. Winter definitely was not the ideal season to be out in the elements spying.

They weren't the only ones having issues with their assigned Death Eater. The only people who had seemed to have success in their endeavors were the two couples tasked with tailing the Carrow twins — George and Angelina and Luna and Terry. They had now split up between the other couples, helping them plan and execute their assassinations.

Hermione groaned as it started to snow on them once again. "Do we really need to sit here in this?" she asked. "We have been here for hours, crouching in the bushes with nothing to show for it."

"Stop grumbling," Rabastan told her, keeping his eyes on the building across from them. "Are you a witch or not?"

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"Cast a shield charm to protect yourself from the snow! Or cast a warming charm if the cold temperatures are bothering you."

"It's not either of those things. I am sorry for griping at you 'Bast. I am just growing impatient with this. It doesn't seem like we are going to get him and only two other Death Eaters have been taken down. There are still five left out there to take down."

"Maybe we need to rethink things," Rabastan suggested.

"Wouldn't hurt," Hermione agreed, shrugging.

"Let's go now then. No point in sitting out here if we are going to change our plans. Let's go," Rabstan said, standing and pulling Hermione along to the end of the block and out of sight of Dolohov's flat.

Once they came to a stop, Hermione apparated them away, intent on breaking the news to the others that this wasn't turning out at all how they had intended.


End file.
